


A Trip to Tuanaki

by Lucy Moss (thecolouryes)



Category: Original Work, The Nameless Adventures
Genre: (surprisingly they're actually the bad guys), Action/Adventure, Adult Language, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Airship Pirates, Airships, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Applied Phlebotinum, Clockwork - Freeform, Elves, F/M, Gaslamp Fantasy, Goldenfish Elixir, Half-Elves, Hidden Lands, Islands, Long Lost Family, Pulp, Sharing a Bed, Stand-in Sibling, Steampunk, Steampunk fantasy, Tropical Islands, adventure fantasy, it's got a cool name too, now to touch on some tropes in no particular order, teenage runaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecolouryes/pseuds/Lucy%20Moss
Summary: Alice has been looking for her father for four long years. She's running out of leads, but she has good authority that this last one is the real thing, and it has her bound for Tuanaki. When she charters the Nameless, all she's looking for is the fastest airship in the docks. She never expects that the crew on board to get quite as entwined in her personal journey as they do. But can you really blame them, when Alice inadvertently leads them on the adventure of a lifetime?
Relationships: Mal/Alice (Nameless Adventures)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the day's finally here. This novel has been in the works since 2016 and I am thrilled to finally be able to share it with you! Despite my best efforts I have fallen absolutely head over heels for these characters, and I can only hope that some of you will join me after reading this, the first of _Nameless Adventures_ as we join our characters in _A Trip to Tuanaki..._

When Gunny returns from the arduous task of securing enough water for the next leg of their journey, she learns that their cargo has already been secured. This is rather unusual, so she heads down to the cargo hold to investigate. There, she finds an unexpected — and unwelcome — surprise.

“Who the hell are you?”

In spite of what she’s been told, she finds the cargo hold nearly empty. All that’s in the hold of the _Nameless_ at the moment is one thing — a girl.

One who doesn’t seem to be paying any particular attention to Gunny.

“I said, who the hell are you?”

The girl looks up at Gunny, and Gunny realizes that she’s older than she first appeared. Eighteen, probably, or close enough to pass for it. The look on her face reflects none of the confusion that Gunny feels, instead showing a surprising curiosity. “Hello,” she says. “You must be Gunny.”

Gunny doesn’t say anything. The young woman isn’t exactly helping herself with what she’s saying’s — Gunny can’t help being suspicious of someone who knows her name before they’ve been introduced.

“I said—”

“Yes, yes, I heard. _Who the hell are you_ and all that. And, let me guess — you’re wondering where the cargo is, right? Well, I can help you with that. _I’m_ the cargo. My name’s Alice.”

“MAL!”

Gunny’s shout is loud enough to wake the dead. It certainly does the job against all drunks in range, of which there are a surprising number. Mal isn’t one of them, but he almost wishes he were. Gunny’s ungainly shout is loud and jarring enough to give him the corresponding headache anyway, and for now there’s nothing to do but grumble under his breath as he gets up from his desk and hauls open the door to his cabin.

“Yes, Gunny?” he says mildly, standing in the doorway. He can just see the top of Gunny’s head from where he is.

“The cargo’s been delivered,” she says as she climbs up to the lower deck.

“Yes, I know.”

“And it’s not cargo — it’s a person.”

He frowns in her direction, though she doesn’t see it. “What?”

“You mean you didn’t _actually_ watch it get loaded? Or did she stow away in a crate she’s hidden somewhere.”

“What—?”

The young woman, meanwhile, has started to climb the ladder behind Gunny. As she rises above the deck, Mal first gets sight of a head of dark hair, and then a pair of startling gray-green eyes so light they seem to glow. When her eyes meet his, she hesitates under the harshness of his gaze.

At least she looks pleased to see him, even if he’s not reciprocating.

“Hello,” she says. “Captain Mal, right?”

“Just Mal,” he grumbles.

“Hello, Mal,” she says. “I’m Alice.”

He stares blankly at the girl for a few moments, hoping to see something familiar in the curve of her cheekbones or the dark tones of her hair. But none of that looks familiar to him, which means that she’s _not_ someone trying to pass themselves off as his daughter.

So he sighs and curses the _flehtkuv_ _Redunai_ that asked him for a favor. _A small favor,_ Benny had said. _Nothing big — just some live cargo that’s got to fly under the Company’s radar, and needs to get where it’s going fast._

And Mal owed him favors, so he’d agreed, as little as he’d liked it. And now here they are with not some stolen cargo, as he’d half expected, but an entire living, breathing, human who was to be kept out of the Company’s sight.

_Lovely._

“Well, you’d best come up here, Alice,” Mal says. “No need for you to be sleeping down there. There’s a perfectly good cabin you could use.”

Gunny gives Mal a pointed look. _She_ knows perfectly well that the _Ship Without A Name_ has precisely _one_ cabin, and it belongs to the captain. Which means one of two things — Mal is gonna kick Den out of the kitchen and call it a cabin, or he’s going to join Gunny in the crew’s quarters. Either way, she’s about to get a roommate, which is _not_ something she’d agreed to.

“Since when are we taking on passengers?” she asks Mal. It’s not terribly subtle, but she’s not sure she has the patience to be, at this point.

“Since we needed the coin,” Mal says. “She’s going to Tuanaki. It won’t be much trouble of a trip, and if we stop at Aparo first we can make a killing on basic supplies.”

Gunny frowns, and then shrugs. “Whatever you say, Captain,” she says. Her tone is only a _little_ mocking, for which Mal silently applauds her. “You gotta sling your own hammock though.”

And with that Gunny strides off. She only heads for the far side of the deck, but it’s far enough from the gas lamps by the ladders that Alice has to squint to see her. “Did I say something wrong?” Alice asks.

“Not you,” Mal says. “Come on, get up from there. No reason to be down there without a cargo.”

Alice scampers up the rest of the ladder, and Mal watches her do it. She isn’t fazed by the climbing, but she hasn’t quite got airlegs, either.

“So, you spent much time on airships?” he asks. Something about this young woman is interesting, and it’s not just her particular combination of youth and tricky relationship with the Company. She certainly wouldn’t be the first such youth he’s met. Though, of all the islands she’d choose to run away to, he couldn’t imagine how she could have chosen _Tuanaki_.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Alice admits. “I’d _like_ to own one, but everyone takes one look at my pretty little face and tells me to go send my daddy to buy me the ship for my birthday.”

“You don’t _look_ old enough to own an airship,” Mal says. She still looks a teen, for all she doesn’t address him like she were.

“I’m twenty years old,” she says. “It’s not like it’s _my_ fault I don’t look it.”

“Oh, please, like twenty is old enough to own an airship. No one under the age of thirty has _nearly_ the experience they’d to sail one by themself, much less be able to manage a crew…”

“And I suppose you’ve _always_ been older than thirty, hmm, Mr. Elf?” she teases. Mal looks at her sternly… and then slowly grins.

“Alright, you’ve got me,” he says. “Elves start counting their age at thirty. So forgive me if I find it difficult to believe that you’re only twenty…”

Alice grins. “Well, we _humans_ start counting at zero. So maybe if you can make that adjustment…”

“Right,” Mal says, shaking his head to hide his own grin. “Well, I’ll show you the cabin, I suppose. And try not to break anything, hear. This is the only place on the ship with a locking door, so we’ve left some… valuables inside. I would _greatly_ appreciate it if you could refrain from picking our locks from sheer curiosity. The locks _are_ there for a reason.”

Alice shoots him a sidelong glance, something unreadable in her expression, and then gestures for him to go on. So he turns around and walks back into the cabin he so recently decided to vacate. He’s not going to particularly _enjoy_ being away from his things, but the trip should be short enough, and all they gotta do is get her there.

In the meantime, he can only pray that his leg doesn’t need any maintenance and then everything will be fine.

“What makes you think I know how to pick a lock?” Alice asks, her face a picture of innocence. Mal now lets his grin show.

“You’re sixteen and running from the Company. If you _didn’t_ know how to pick a lock I’d want to know how you’ve managed to survive this long on the goodwill of others.”

Alice’s gaze dips to the ground. There’s only a few possessions of hers she’s kept these last four years, and her picks are one of them. “I’m twenty,” she says. It’s the only part of Mal’s statement worth correcting.

“And you paid Benny a handsome fare to get on the fastest ship he could find. And he found _me_ , and most of that fare made its way into my pocket, and the _Nameless_ has enough fuel to get to Tuanaki by way of Aparo.”

“I thought we were going straight to Tuanaki,” Alice says. She’s standing in the doorway, not yet having crossed into the cabin. It’s not that she doesn’t feel welcome — on the contrary, as a matter of fact. The hiss and clank of steam vents runs through this room as it did through her childhood homes. The cabin gleams mahogany wood and brass fixtures, and Alice basks in it a moment. Then, her question presses, and she steps forward, crossing the threshold. “That’s what I paid for, anyway. A trip to Tuanaki. _Not_ Aparo.”

“So think of it as a bonus,” Mal says absently. He’s busy haphazardly rounding up the most important of his papers and things, and locking away all the rest. “A two-for-the-price-of-one deal, as it were.”

“I don’t want to go to Aparo.”

“You paid me well. I’ll be paid better for delivering a whole load of basic supplies to a distant outpost. And if I’m gonna bother going all the way out to Tuanaki, I’d better make sure the whole trip is worth my while, hmm? Plus, maybe when we get to Aparo and you see how tiny a place _that_ is, you’ll change your mind about whatever nonsense it is that has you wanting to go to Tuanaki.”

Alice glares at him. “I’m _going_ to Tuanaki.”

“Yeah, yeah, just trying to provide my _worldly wisdom_ ,” Mal mutters. “Anyway, here’s the cabin. Bunk’s over there, there’s a wash basin there, and like I said, _don’t_ go picking any locks. I mean it. I’ve got a respectable reputation with the Company, and I’m only doing this because I owe Benny a favor. Make my life difficult and I’ll call the Company the first chance I get.”

Alice sobers instantly. The ensuing look she gives Mal chills him to the bone. “You don’t want to do that,” she says.

“Then you should make sure not to cause any trouble,” he says. “I mean it. I could call them now if—”

“Get this floating trash bin out of here and _then_ you can go back to threatening me. I’m really not in the mood to put up with bullshit from the person I hired to take me where I’m going.”

“I’m happy to leave you on Huana.”

“And what makes you think you’re the _only_ sailor in these docks who owes Benny a favor? You’re not the best ship here, only the fastest.”

The comment, surprisingly, stings. So Mal gathers up his loose papers, turns on his heel, and marches out the door. It’s only when he’s in the doorway that he stops, turns, and addresses Alice. “Enjoy your trip.”

He slams the door shut behind him.

#

The whole ship shakes in the wake of the slammed door. Gunny and Den look up from their cards to see Mal storming out of the cabin with a look that should start fires. If it were anyone else, they’d be concerned.

“I’m surprised that Mal managed to piss off our first passenger in five minutes,” Gunny says, staring at her cards. There’s nothing exciting about her hand — and the dealer’s cards don’t help things.

“I’m not,” Den says. He plays a pair and then rolls the die — seven.

“That’s true,” Gunny says as he draws. She doesn’t have anything to play, and draws immediately after. “What I meant was — I’m surprised it took five whole minutes.”

“Aces,” Den announces, showing his hand. Gunny doesn’t even bother wasting the breath of a groan — she simply hands over the coins and gets to her feet.

“I’m going to see if he needs anything,” she announces.

“The captain or the cargo?” Den asks. Gunny gives him a strange look, but at least what he’s said is all in Common.

“The captain,” she says slowly. “Maybe you should get the furnace ready?”

“She’s been hot since the morning,” Den says. “Needed to bake the biscuits.”

Gunny nods once — how could she have forgotten? — and then heads out to crew’s quarters. Technically, the only designated areas in the ship are the cabin, the kitchen, and the cargo hold; only Gunny has divided the main level of the ship into further subsections — namely, crew’s quarters and armory. Since, so far, she has been the only crew member sleeping in quarters, it hasn’t mattered all that much, but she wants to make sure the divisions stay.

Sure enough, Mal has put his hammock up on the wrong side already. Gunny manages to catch him as he’s sitting in it and sorting out some papers. He’s surprisingly receptive to moving his hammock, even though he grumbles about it during the whole moving process.

Finally, he settles on his hammock and sorts out the papers he really needs. None of them will really matter until they reach Aparo, but there’s a chance they’ll need to show them on the way out. Huana hasn’t traditionally been a port that checked departures, but just in case…

“Everything alright, Cap’n? With the — cargo?”

“She’ll be fine,” Mal says distractedly. “I just need our shipping manifest.”

“Why? We won’t need that til Aparo — will we?”

Mal shrugs. He looks up at the closed door to his cabin, and Gunny catches the look. “She’s not exactly a _friend_ of the Company,” he says carefully.

“Mal,” Gunny says sharply. “Why do we have _human_ cargo?”

Instead of answering, Mal reaches for the goggles hanging around his neck and puts them on. “We’ve got sailing to do,” he says.

Gunny sighs. Then she puts on her own goggles and follows her captain up to the deck.

#

A Company support ship escorts them out of the dock — not because anything is wrong, but rather, because Huana’s weather can be difficult and the best way to prevent crashes is to fly a narrow channel between air currents. Gunny watches them go for far longer than she really needs to, the all-too-familiar logo of the great Piers & Son Co. flapping from their mast.

Only once the airship is firmly out of sight does Gunny turn back to Mal. “Are you sure about this cargo?” she shouts.

They’re picking up real speed finally, and the wind whips across the deck with a vengeance. It nearly eats Mal’s response. “We needed cargo!”

“So take some _thing_ questionable, not some _one!”_

“—didn’t want anything questionable—Benny asked for a favor—”

Gunny sighs. This clearly isn’t the place to discuss it — and now that Mal is out a cabin, she’s not sure what the place to discuss it _would_ be. The kitchen, maybe?

“—up to me, she wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.”

It’s only the end of a rant, but it’s the important part, certainly. Gunny turns to add something and that’s when she sees the dark-haired figure near the ladder. She disappears for an instant — Gunny rubs her eyes. When they clear she sees Alice emerging on deck looking for all the world like she was raised on an airship.

However, when the first words out of her mouth are spoken, not shouted, Gunny breathes a strange sigh of relief. She’s not sure why, but she’s certainly relieved that their cargo only _looks_ the part of a sailor.

On the second try, she’s loud enough to hear. “Why is it so windy?”

“You wanted fast,” Mal grunts. “This is fast!”

Gunny grins. Alice tries to ask another question, but it, too, is snatched away by the wind. In the meantime, Gunny walks a circuit of the deck. It’s not terribly large, but they’ve all got their duties on the ship, and one of Gunny’s most important ones is keeping an eye out for the blacksails.

No one’s exactly sure where the pirates came from, but everyone knows the blacksails are bad news. Like all well-feared pirates, there are terrible legends about the things the blacksails have done — burned entire islands to ash, ripped organs out of living people, possessed living souls from only the act of making eye contact. Gunny’s never believed much of the tales, but she’s always loved telling them. The feeling of terror they inspire is entertainment on its own.

For all the blacksails are villainous, they are at least easily recognizable by their eponymous black-sailed airships. While no one has gotten close enough to actually find out whether black sails _always_ mean blacksails, the black-sailed ships have been encroaching on the standard trade routes in recent years. Getting out to somewhere like Tuanaki actually poses a certain, unavoidable level of risk, simply because it is not a major enough island to merit getting its own Company shipyard. And without a Company shipyard there’s no defensive support available, so there’s no reason the blacksails should stay away, if they really are pirates.

Which, of course, only means that Tuanaki must be _dying_ for supplies, even basic foodstuffs. If they could get some linen or spices…

Alice shouts out a question, but Gunny is too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear it. She does, however, hear Mal’s response.

“Two days,” he shouts. “And then three, maybe four more to Tuanaki.”

It doesn’t seem to be the answer Alice was looking for, but she doesn’t press the question. Instead she heads back down the hatch.

 _Yes, little girl, go back downstairs and dream of the wonders of living on an airship,_ she thinks. It’s not the most pleasant response, and she briefly regrets it. Still, her thoughts aren’t getting in the way of anything, and with any luck this experience will teach them a lesson about checking out their cargo before they take it. Either way, in a good six days, they’ll be through with this particular _cargo_ once and for all. And how hard could it be to make it through six days?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting two chapters per week, on Fridays and Mondays, until we reach Chapter 16. If you liked it, leave a review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the story so far! This chapter should ramp up the action a little as Alice gets once step closer to finding her father.

It's nearly midday by the time the _Nameless_ sails into the port of Aparo. Mal has been alone on deck since he took the watch from Gunny, and nothing eventful has happened so far. However, they've now reached the point in the day where Mal will have to prove to yet another port official that he is, in fact, allowed to captain his own ship.

Mal leans over in the direction of the speaking tube that allows him to send his voice directly into his own cabin. Gunny won't be inside, of course, but if he makes himself loud enough she'll get the picture. "Gunny!" he shouts, cupping his hands around the mouth of the pipe to block out the wind. "Bring me the shipping manifest!"

That order of business settled, Mal turns to survey the port. Aparo is a thriving mid-sized island, and their port facilities are just as busy as you might expect. One of the unique features of Aparo's port, the multi-tiered docks made possible by the Aparo Institute of Research, only serves to make the scene more complicated to follow than a standard Pierson port. Instead of a single raised walkway with smaller jetties branching out at regular intervals, the Aparo docks are a maze of scaffolding and tie-downs in the oddest of places. Only on Aparo, with so many tinkerers skilled at making the impossible an everyday reality, could such a mad creation have lasted.

"Here are your papers," interrupts a voice, and Mal turns to find a woman offering his shipping manifest. But it's not Gunny, it's Alice, who must have been in his cabin when he just shouted into it. Certainly Mal has seen very little of her since they left Huana, but that's not exactly surprising when he gave her a private cabin to hole herself up in. After Mal takes the papers from her, she walks towards the rail to get a better look at the port. "Is this Aparo?"

"Yes. We're sailing for that harbormaster's station there," Mal explains, pointing to the platform standing unusually clear of scaffolding. "Then they'll give us a slip, and we can go about our business."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"First of all, we need more water."

"Didn't you get any when we were just in Huana?"

"Of course I did."

"Then what's the wrong with it?"

Mal takes a slow breath, trying to keep from snapping at his customer. _This is why we don't take passengers,_ he thinks. Aloud he says, "We'll need more. We don't carry much more a few days' worth at a time."

Alice frowns. "Why not?"

"It's heavy," he says matter-of-factly. "Anyway, before the harbormaster gets here, you might want to go back to the cabin. That shipping manifest doesn't list a passenger, so if you stick around up here you'll have to properly act like crew. Which means _not_ standing around and just watching the conversation."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm better at eavesdropping than that," she declares with a smirk. "But I'll leave you privacy for your clandestine dealings with the harbormaster. Shout if you need anything — except, maybe a _little_ less deafening next time?"

"Sorry," Mal says with a sheepish grin. Alice just laughs, which thankfully settles the matter as she willingly disappears a moment later. Then, all that's left is waiting for the harbormaster to send a representative to the _Nameless_.

Unfortunately, from the instant the man places his boots on the deck, Mal knows that he's going to make the process more painful than necessary. First the man makes a show of looking around the deck for someone who _isn't_ an elf, and then his first few sentences to Mal are painfully well-articulated. When Mal announces himself as the captain, it throws a wrench into the works. However, the inspector quickly falls back on the old favorite of Aparo, and transforms himself back into an officious bureaucrat who insists on checking every single thing not once but thrice. It's slow and methodical, noticeably slowing down the process, but Mal's attitude never wavers from polite attentiveness.

Twenty minutes later, as the inspector is wrapping up his third time through everything, someone climbs out onto the upper deck. Mal's back is turned, but he has a good idea of who's just come out, and sure enough, he notices the inspector's eyes go wide as the older man sees the figure who has recently emerged.

"Mal?" Alice asks. "Is everything alright?"

There's something in her tone that makes Mal think of Pierson officers, and he finds himself turning back to face her. The woman who stands on his deck now cuts a much more imposing figure than she did when delivering his papers. It's helped, of course, by the subtle holster on her hip, and the veiled air of command in her question. Mal is taken aback, and he stares just a moment too long.

_Where were you ten minutes ago?_ he wonders, when the gears of his brain catch once more. However, the harbormaster springs into action, sending the _Nameless_ on her way to her slip so fast Mal's head is spinning. It's not until Alice makes an idle comment as Mal steers that he realizes why.

"It's always a shame to see people who still think that humans are better than elves."

Mal bristles. _Really? Sailing into an imperial port, and you're proclaiming how bad it is to be an elf? Makes one wonder if it's really the_ Company _you're hiding from..._

He doesn't say much of anything in response. He grunts a little, but he's too focused on his work to say anything aloud.

"I mean, it's a shame people believe such a thing when it's so patently _untrue._ Look at you, for instance."

"Gunny!" Mal shouts. After an instant, she comes just high enough up the ladder to stick her head out where she can see Mal standing on the aft deck.

"Yeah?"

"Come tie her up, we've got a slip."

"Gimme a mo," she says, and disappears. Before she reappears, Mal finally responds to Alice's rant.

"I'm not an elf," he says.

Alice stares at him blankly, clearly more thrown off by his summoning Gunny than the rest of the conversation. "But you — you've got the ears. And the... build, and what you're wearing... I mean, sorry for assuming, but you _really_ look it."

"Just half elf," he says. Gunny appears on deck a moment later, but he doesn't need to tell her anything — she knows to go to the bow and secure the ropes as soon as they're close enough for her to make the jump to the dock. "The other half's human."

Alice eyes him sidelong, sizing him up. "Now is this a top half/bottom half situation? Or—"

"We're moored!" Gunny shouts. Mal releases his hold of the wheel and practically leaps off the raised portion of the deck. In two strides he's above the hatch.

"Den! We're docked, we're getting supplies!"

He doesn't get a response. He wasn't really expecting one, and there's a fair chance Den is asleep at the moment. If that's the case, there's no way in hell he'll get up for one of Mal's half-hearted shouts.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Mal looks at Alice. For the first time she seems actually unsure, and he wonders how long it'll last. He would have quickly said no, if she still looked like the misplaced merchant's daughter that appeared in his hold yesterday. But today she's playing a different role. The pistol on her hip, for instance, does wonders to change her appearance.

"Can you shoot that?" he asks, nodding towards the holster.

"Not well," she admits. "But it's better than nothing. Mostly having it is enough insurance."

Mal nods absently. "You can come with us. But no funny business and _no_ talking to anyone. If you really are hiding from the Company..."

"I'm not."

Mal's only response is to raise his eyebrows. He knows it twists his scar in alarming ways, but Alice doesn't react nearly as much as most people do the first time they see it.

"I'm running from their spy master. And before those eyebrows of yours leap off your face, no, I'm not telling you why. We going or what?"

Mal grins. Then, still looking straight at Alice, he shouts over his shoulder. "Hey, Gunny, need a hand with the carrying? I've got just the girl in mind..."

Alice groans.

#

Once they get to ground level, Mal and Gunny spend all their attention arguing about whether they should bring foodstuffs or cloth. Alice is not paying nearly enough attention to the conversation to know who is supporting which side, as this is her first time in Aparo. The sprawling splendor is more than enough to keep her mind busy. The shops are crammed in tight, sometimes two in a building, and the streets are no better. They're clogged with people and even the occasional carriage fighting its way through. All in all, it's quite hectic, and it's about all she can do to keep following Mal and Gunny and not get distracted. Everywhere she turns she sees something new for sale, in every fashion from island to continental and plenty of things in between.

What captures Alice's attention most, however, is all of the gadgets and gizmos around. On this corner there's a man selling spyglasses which magnify distant pictures to life size; on that corner there's a woman trying to get passers-by interested in a machine that will easily peel a banana when properly wound. It's maddening, the variety of crazy things that can be seen or bought here and this isn't even counting the storefronts, where there are all sorts of baubles to be seen.

Alice turns to avoid getting run over by a fishmonger's cart that's driving itself through the marketplace, the angry fishmonger chasing after it and shouting at the steam-powered machine. Alice chuckles to herself and turns towards the alleyway that Gunny and Mal just turned down.

But they aren't there.

_Shit,_ she thinks. _Alright, Alice, the most helpful thing you can do is get back to the ship... which way was that, again?_

"Alice!"

She slowly turns towards whoever called her name. If it's _not_ someone she wants to see here, she'll only have an instant before she has to run. She'll turn around and just _go_ , and—

It's Mal. "Try not to lose track of us, alright? We don't have time to come back to pick up strays."

"Right," she says. "Sorry. Got distracted."

"So, are you coming? I can give you directions back to the ship if you'd like."

This sets her in motion. "No, no, that's alright," she says. "I've just never been to a market quite like this one. Not used to seeing so many... contraptions, all over the place."

Mal looks around them. It's true that there's more steam-powered and clockwork machines here than any other port he's been to — perhaps that's one of the reasons why he's always liked refueling here, even if the city isn't the friendliest to elves. There's certainly something fun about being able to buy more gadgets than you could ever possibly need and which may not work any better than just doing things by hand.

But for now he can feel Gunny glaring daggers into the back of his head, and so he tries not to dwell too long on the wonderful creations around them. "So, what'll it be? Directions or are you coming with?"

"I'll follow," Alice says quickly. "Sorry. Let's go."

So Mal turns and leads the way. They meet back up with Gunny in a moment and she takes the lead. Clearly, the argument about cargo has been won, in a way that makes neither party particularly happy. Ah, compromise.

"So you ever been to Aparo?" Mal asks as they're walking. Gunny snorts in wry amusement, but she doesn't turn around — she's seen this show before. _Although, if she's getting off at Tuanaki,_ Gunny muses privately, _this might be shorter than most..._

"Never been to Aparo," Alice says to Mal. "Never been to Tuanaki, either, but there's a first time for everything, right?"

Mal glances at her, trying to read in her expression something that explains her reasoning for hiring a ship to a distant outpost like Tuanaki — and probably the only one it'll see this season. "And what's waiting for you in Tuanaki? A more appropriately aged husband, perhaps?"

Alice rolls her eyes. Then she glances at Mal. "I'm looking for my father," she says carefully.

"And he's on Tuanaki?"

Alice shrugs. "He might be. I don't really know. But I do know that my last chance of finding him is there."

"Well, don't worry, we'll get you there soon enough."

"That's alright," Alice says. "I have time. No need to be hasty on my account."

Mal gives her a strange look. "You hired the fastest ship on the docks to get to Tuanaki."

"I hired the fastest ship to get me _out_ of Huana," she says quickly. "Just 'cause I'm really running from _Piers_ and not the Company—"

Mal interrupts her with a particularly eloquent look. "How exactly can you be both running from the Piers & Son Co. and _not_ running from them at the same time?"

"No, no, not—" Alice sighs. "You know that _urban legend_ that all the first sons of first sons of the original Piers are all named Piers?"

Mal laughs. "Everyone's heard that," he says. "But who would be _stupid_ enough to—"

"It's not urban legend," Alice says darkly. Mal gives her a funny look, because her emotion seems out of place for something as inconsequential as urban legend. "They're _all_ called Piers. And while the Company wouldn't mind jailing me for all the things I've lifted over the years, there's a Piers that would, quite literally, kill me, if we crossed paths again."

"That seems a bit much for an agent of the Company," Mal says idly.

"Well, alright, maybe it's a _bit_ of an exaggeration," she says, a grin slowly forming on her face. "But he would _not_ be happy to see me, and I think the only person unhappier if that encounter were to occur would be me. So let's avoid it, shall we?"

"Look, I'm just trying to make a living. Normally it involves cargo that can't talk back... so you'll forgive me for finding a particular interest in the cargo that can."

"I'm no cargo," Alice says. "Illicit, perhaps. Dangerous? Definitely. But _cargo_? No, I'm not cargo. I'm a human being, and it'd do you good to remember that."

"Oh, you're perfectly human. You're _very_ clearly a human child."

Alice smacks him on the shoulder. "Hey!"

Mal acts far more affronted and hurt at this gesture than he really is, but Alice doesn't even begin to fall for it. "What could I _possibly_ have done wrong in calling you human!"

"It wasn't the human part, and you know it," Alice says, rolling her eyes. "Stop being a boring adult and maybe I'll go back to flirting with you."

Now it's Mal's turn to be affronted. "Hey!" he exclaims indignantly. "We _both_ know that if there's any flirting going on, it's _me_ flirting with _you_ , not the other way around."

"Excuse me! Who's to say that _both_ couldn't be going on?"

"No _respectable_ woman would flirt with an elf seriously."

"Well then, what a good thing I ain't respectable," Alice says. "Come on, Mal, dancing is so much more fun than arguing about it."

"I don't know," Mal says, grinning slowly. "I'm kind of enjoying the argument, too."

A smile creeps across Alice's face. The witty retort is still forming in her mind when Gunny interrupts them.

"We're here," she announces. "Save the flirting for later, hmm? We've got work to do now."

Alice salutes her. "Yes, ma'am!" Gunny rolls her eyes at it, but she's smiling. She reminds Gunny of a certain girl _she_ knew a decade ago, optimistic about the prospect of going to reclaim the islands' cities for civilized folk. Plenty of things have changed since then — Gunny's not sure she'd sign up to fight for the empire, this time around, but she's ready to fight if it comes to her.

"After you, Gunny," Mal says, stopped beside Alice. Gunny glances between them.

"No funny stuff, right?"

"I'm just here to watch," Alice says mildly. Gunny looks pointedly at Mal, who throws up his hands in a defensive stance.

"Hey, don't look at me," he says. "I'm looking to find a cargo, same as you. Of course, we _could_ make only one stop and then—"

"Come on," Gunny says, turning on her heel. Then she turns and ducks into a well-kept shop, full of fine muslin and well-made oilskins and all the notions a sewing project could need. Gunny immediately makes a beeline for the register, and practically accosts the merchant on the subject of cloth. The good news is that the merchant seems to be expecting this treatment, and responds in kind.

Mal and Alice hang back in the entrance. Mal gives her a sidelong glance. "Don't _all_ girls get all hot and bothered about the prospect of buying a new dress?"

Alice glares at him. "First, you'll notice that these are not, in fact, completed articles of clothing. _These_ are just the raw materials. And while I _could_ turn them into something worth wearing, why would I, when I could go down the road and buy a ready-made dress instead?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who's forsaking her given role in society."

Alice makes a face, complete with sticking her tongue out and fake puking. "Me? A housewife? Are you _kidding?_ First, it would make Piers happy, so I could never. And even if it didn't, what would I be then, who would I be? Just someone's _wife_?"

"Look, I'm not saying you have to do anything," he says. He looks for something to distract himself with — the closest thing he can see that might be worth taking a look at is the buttons, which are arranged in tray divided into tiny sections. There is no more than a fistful in each section. While Mal is figuring out how to work it so that they can inspect all of the buttons available for purchase, he continues his earlier thought. "Frankly, I'm just wondering why _Gunny_ of all people knows more about this stuff than you do. _You're_ a girl."

Alice looks up from the buttons for a moment to catch Mal's eye, but his attention is lost in trying to figure out the piece of machinery that should be straightforward. Alice sighs, reaches around and over his arm, and rotates the handle that Mal was trying to use as a lever.

"I'm pretty sure Gunny's a girl, too," she says.

Mal makes an extremely mature face at her, and she rolls her eyes. "Well, yeah, she's _female_ , if that's what you're asking. But she's not — a girl. You know, little."

"I am _not_ little!" Alice says indignantly. She comes just short of stomping her foot on the ground petulantly before realizing that that will _not_ help her case any. So instead she goes on with her argument. _"I_ happen to be the one with enough gold to charter _your_ ship. So forgive me for finding that a little _demeaning._ "

Mal mutters something indistinct but just loud enough that Alice is sure she won't like whatever it is he's said. Which only means she has to know what it was.

"What?"

Mal sighs, like he doesn't want to say — but he also know she's come too close to actually saying it to back out now. "At least I've earned my money through respectable work. What'd you do, earn it the old fashioned way?"

Alice turns pink — and then her face contorts into sudden fury. _"What?"_

Mal repeats himself. It doesn't help. Alice only seems to get even _closer_ to exploding, and then Gunny approaches, the merchant in toe. Alice storms off before they can approach.

"Time to pay," Gunny says. "What'd you say to her?"

Mal tells her. Gunny smacks the back of his head, hard. "Hey! What was that for?"

"What the hell were you _thinking?"_ she demands. "Why couldn't you have just called her a whore and gotten it over with? At least _then_ you could have said you were joking when she didn't respond well."

"What are you talking about?" Mal asks. "All I wanted to know was whether she'd stolen the money she paid us with. Not that I necessarily _minded_ , but—"

Gunny smacks him again. "Who'd you learn your Common from, Den?"

"Hey, I'm not _that_ bad! Just cause I learned Elvish first—"

"Argue later. Money now."

Mal sighs and reaches for his purse. But when he reaches for it, he finds the pocket in question empty. This sparks some colorful cursing, none of which Gunny needs translated, although at least half of it isn't in Common.

"She took your purse, didn't she?"

Mal doesn't even answer, he just sighs. "I'll go track her down."

"No, _definitely_ not you. She's playing you for a fool and knows it. Wait here, and I'll come back with the purse."

"I'm not holding any merchandise without payment," the merchant says. Gunny sighs, glares at Mal, and then fishes out her own purse. "Take this, as a first payment. And _don't_ sell those uncut oilskins to the next person who comes in, you hear? I'll be back for them. Mal, make sure he does as I've bid."

"Right," Mal mutters. "That's right, Captain, stay behind and watch over the cargo that isn't even ours yet. Don't go out doing _captainly_ things like actually acquiring the rest of the cargo we're shipping. No need for you to be _productive_ while Gunny's out saving the day..."

Mal continues to mutter to himself under his breath, but Gunny is long gone, and he's back to doing nothing but rifling through buttons and resigning himself to keeping an eye on the door for when Gunny returns.

#

Once Alice is out of sight of the cloth-maker's shop, she pulls out Mal's purse and tries to judge its weight without opening it. It's a game she's played many times before, the is-this-enough-to-pay-off-all-my-debts gamble. Sometimes it's paid off — mostly it hasn't, but sometimes it has, and that's what matters. This time, she's managed to accrue the cash _before_ taking on the debt, and that's put her in a fine mood. It's only a twenty minute walk to her destination, and it's still early enough in the day the rainy season's prototypical weather hasn't shown up yet.

Alice jingles the purse in her pocket and tries to guess how much she can use as a bribe. Unfortunately, a lot of that depends on how far _this_ contact tells her she'll have to go to find her father. For all she knows her father could be in the heart of the Continent somewhere and she'd finally have to leave behind her familiar island life.

By some luck, the only living people she's managed to track down have made their homes on the islands. There were a few of her mother's classmates who were from the Continent, surely, but the only one on Alice's half of the class photograph. He's been dead six years now — longer than Alice has been searching for her father. He wasn't the only one of her parents' classmates to die, either. Of the ones she _could_ find, some had no information but others' names. She's spent a while with no more answers than, "Try here next."

This last lead, her one last chance at _actually_ finding her father, is supposed to be on Aparo in the flower district, on Chrysanthemum street. The map Alice memorized has that six blocks away from her currently location — not bad, but it won't be easy to fight her way through the bustling market crowds. She could go the long way around, but it's _much_ longer, and—

As Alice reflexively scans the crowds, she spots someone that makes her dart away. It's not imperial guards, thankfully, but it _is_ someone who she'd much rather avoid at this particular moment. So Alice ducks down and slips around a corner, out of sight before anyone's noticed.

Or so she thinks. She's walking briskly towards the cobbled stone of the flower district when she hears the telltale sound of footsteps. She is _definitely_ being followed, and she really does not want to put up with this particular hiccup right now.

So she pretends Gunny isn't following her. But her feet haven't even touched the cobblestone when Gunny shouts out. "Alice! Wait!"

Alice takes that as cue to run. She sprints off down the dark cobbled streets, dodging carriages as often as other pedestrians here. The streets are not exactly empty. All the respectable folk who live in the flower district are basking in the pleasant weather, enjoying all the elaborate gardens that lend the district its name. It's almost enough activity to be a decent cover.

The thing is, elbowing people out of the way while you're being chased is a much more unusual event here, and the wake of disgruntled folk Alice leaves behind her is _far_ too easy to follow. So she weaves around the curving streets, trying to match landmarks to her maps as she sprints past. Eventually she finds herself running down a deserted back alleyway, Gunny not having yet caught up, and she grabs a hold of the nearest wall and hauls herself over it in a fluid motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave kudos or a comment if you enjoyed it! See you Friday with the next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying the story! Today we get a peek into a little bit more of Alice's backstory, which I'm sure everyone is dying to hear about. And now, on with the show!

Alice leans back against the cold stone of the wall with her eyes closed, breathing deeply until she catches her breath. It takes longer than she'd care to admit, but when she hears the unmistakable sound of someone running all the way down the alley, far away from Alice's hiding spot, a broad grins spreads over her face. It's a moment later that she finally opens her eyes.

Only to find a middle-aged man staring intently at her. He hasn't said anything yet, so she doubts he'll call for the guards, so she takes the time to brush off her palms before addressing him.

"Professor Hedgewick?" she asks.

The man stares at her. Alice rummages in her pocket for the well-worn picture, the only scrap of information that she's had to lead her to her father over four long years of traveling, and inspects it. There are five men in students' robes, and one more beside them in a professor's robe. The students look close to Alice's age now, but the pictured professor looks even older than the man now in front of her.

"Yes?" the man asks.

She sighs and tucks the photograph back in her pocket. So her information was bad — but not _so_ bad the person she's found doesn't know who she's really looking for. This could either be good, or very, very bad.

"I'm not sure that you can help me with this, but I was wondering if I could ask a favor."

 _"You_ want a favor from _me?_ How about not calling the guards for long enough that you get to explain yourself? Or do you want a favor in addition to that one?"

Alice ignores it. Whoever this is, they're not _overtly_ working for the Company, because otherwise there'd be guards in place to arrest her the moment she entered the yard. Which means they're working _just_ for Piers. Or perhaps worse, they're looking for her father, too — 'cause then they'd be looking, and _ahead_ of her.

"The favor I'd like to ask is for you to help me find my father," she says.

"And what makes you think I could do that?" the imitation professor asks.

"You taught him. _And_ my mother. It was a while ago... just over twenty years, as a matter of fact."

Suddenly, the man's posture radically changes. He glances furtively around them, as if it's now _he_ who's afraid they're being watched, and not Alice who's afraid of merely being followed by the people she stole from. When he speaks, his tone has changed entirely — he's no longer attempting to act wise beyond his apparent years. "Come with me," he says urgently. "Inside, _now."_

Alice's hand goes to her pistol but she does as she's bid. She figures, what's the harm in going into a large, open, empty room that's full of big windows that everyone can see into—

There's a metallic clicking sound behind her and she turns slowly. The imitation professor has a gun in the folds of his robes and it's pointed at Alice's stomach.

"Who are you and what do you want with my uncle?" he demands.

"Can we maybe — not, with the gun?"

The man steps forward. "Who are you—"

"—and what do I want with your uncle, yes I know, I heard you the first time. What I'm saying is, you've made your point, I would really appreciate it if you could put the gun away now."

He doesn't. Instead, he just stares at her. When he finally opens his mouth, he's barely gotten a word out before he's interrupted. "Who—"

"Yes, yes, I've got it, _who are you, what is your plan_ and all that. On the one hand — what makes you think I'd tell you, even if you _do_ have a gun on me? I mean, kill me and _I'm_ dead, sure, but what about the people who sent me? I have one of them backing me up right now, as a matter of fact."

"You were trying to _escape_ from someone you _robbed_ who was chasing you."

"Was not," Alice says.

The decoy raises his eyebrows. "No? Was it _not_ your pursuer who I heard shouting 'stop, thief!'? Because I could have _sworn—"_

"You can have it!" Alice says quickly. She rummages in her pockets for the purse and jangles it enticingly. "Everything that's in here could be yours."

"And what makes you think _I'd_ want stolen gold?"

"This gold isn't stolen," she says. "It's mine — I had used it to barter passage somewhere I didn't really want to go so we'd end up here."

"And I suppose you got a refund from your _backup_ out there since you're not making it to that final destination."

"So I may have _taken_ the refund, if we want to be strictly precise. But a refund's still a refund, and this _ain't_ Tuanaki."

She gets a strange look for this comment. "Why would you want to go to Tuanaki?" he asks.

"It was the only place I could think of that would require a stop here," she says. "I wasn't really looking forward to the prospect of going to Tuanaki for real, if the captain I hired turned out to be crazier than I expected, but we've got what we've got and for now I think it'll be time for me to discuss the _terms_ of my giving you this money, hmm?"

"What terms?" the decoy asks suspiciously.

"Well, I'm not going to give you any gold for no reason. I'll be paying — for information, that is. That way, even if that _backup_ finds her way here, she won't be able to deny your claim to the gold. It weren't hers to begin with and _you_ got it proper-like."

Alice watches the corners of the decoy's eyes as she slips into the dockside drawl that was her second language. Skin folds into crows feet as he fails to bite back a grin. She is _much_ better at hiding her glee that he's fallen for her trap. "What is it you want to know?" he asks.

"Your — uncle. The _real_ Professor. How do I find him?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"You're not going to start with that again, are you?"

"Only as long as you don't answer," he says. Alice sighs.

"Fine," she says. "I _was_ being truthful, you know. I'm looking for my father."

"Uncle Benji hasn't taught anyone in _decades,"_ the decoy says. "What makes you think he'll remember your parents?"

Alice sighs. This is one of the things she's been afraid of, and truth to be told, she hasn't come up with an answer that she herself is willing to accept, so she's not exactly sure what she's going to say now. But she can't exactly say _nothing_ , either. "I don't know that he will," she admits. "But he's the last chance I've got."

"And what if he can't help you?"

"Well, I won't know that until I see him, will I? If you're not gonna help, well, I s'ppose I'll have to track him down myself. But surely you wouldn't mind a nice big sack of gold? And all you've got to do is tell me something that I promise to keep a secret from everyone else."

"And what's to stop me from shooting you, right now?"

"There's nothing stopping you from doing that, of course," Alice says, a grin slowly forming on her face. "But then, I haven't told you who I am yet, have I? And, you know, I don't suppose I will, until you tell me where the real Professor is."

"Who's to say that I know where he is?"

"Oh, please," Alice says. "You're in the least accessible telegram hub of all time. Why would you even _be_ here, if the Professor didn't need someone to get his message to a broader-reaching audience than his local network? And in the meantime you've got a chance to become one of the great information masters of this century, so why _wouldn't_ you leap at the chance? No, of course, I understand precisely what drove you to this place. I'm just hoping that maybe we can put aside our differences and—"

With loud, metallic _thud,_ a shovel makes contact with the back of the decoy's head and he crumples to the floor. Alice has her pistol up and aimed at the attacker before the decoy's hit the ground, but it takes a second for her to recognize the figure on wielding the gardening tool.

"Gunny?" Alice asks. "What—?"

"I've been listening since this piece of trash told you to go inside," she says. "I didn't actually — keep going."

Alice looks down at the man collapsed on the floor. Then she looks back at Gunny — then at the man on the floor again. "Well, thanks for knocking out my only source of information," she says.

"Actually, I'm not so sure about that," Gunny says. "This Professor Hedgewick you're looking for — the _real_ one, not him what's lying there — I think I might know someone who could help you find him."

"And who's that?" Alice asks, though she has a sneaking suspicion of the answer.

"Mal."

She begins to regret stealing his purse, after all.

#

Mal paces back and forth in the cloth maker's shop, wearing a hole in the fine rug trapped beneath the heels of his boots. "You want to get in contact with _who_?" he asks.

"Professor Hedgewick," Alice repeats. "Gunny said she'd heard you mention the name a couple times, and — she'd knocked out the only other lead I had, so..."

Mal sighs. This day is _not_ going according to plan, and even the way it's going off the rails doesn't make any sense. "Did you bring back my purse?"

Alice blushes. "Uh, yeah, here," she says, sheepishly handing it over. Mal pockets it — and carefully closes his coat, vowing to be more mindful of his possessions in the future. "I don't have any _more_ to give you than what I gave for getting us to Tuanaki. But at least we don't have to go out there, right? So there's a bit of a silver lining, I guess."

"And _why_ are you looking for the Professor?"

"I told you, I'm looking for my father."

"Oh, so that part of the story _was_ true?"

"I'm just trying to keep a few people off my trail," she mutters under her breath. "In fact, _I_ wanted to have this little chat on the ship, but—"

"Merchant! Double the oilskins in that order of ours!" Mal shouts out. Gunny tilts her head in a questioning gesture for Mal, and he grins widely. "Best check your oilskins now, ladies. We're going to Laka'al, and it's the rainy season."

#

With the cloth-maker's hired help and the three of them carrying boxes, they make the transfer of goods in a single trip. It's not a particularly _fun_ trip, and it would never be doable if the merchant hadn't loaded a mechanical cart that could carry far more than any one person with the vast majority of what they'd ordered. Then it's simply a matter of unpacking crates into an orderly configuration in the cargo hold. The question of whether to volunteer to help doesn't even cross Alice's mind until she and Mal have returned, at Mal's insistence, to the cabin. Only _then_ does she remember that she is not, as she had always imagined, living and working on an airship, but as a matter of fact paying for the gift of its passage along the island chain. It's as much a sobering dose of reality as Mal's question: "Why are you looking for the Professor?"

"I'm really looking for my father," Alice admits. Mal has settled in the chair at his desk. Alice, without much choice in where else to sit, settles on the open bunk. "I left home four years ago. I won't say why — it's not important, really. Suffice to say I wanted out of there, and the only other person _anywhere_ in the world that I knew existed and might care about me was my father. I'd never met him, but I thought, maybe...

"So for the last four years I've done everything I can — pulled everything string I have and cashed in on favors and _asked_ for favors and everything I could think of until I had narrowed down the fates of six people. You see, I have this photography..." Reaching into her pocket, Alice pulls out the sepia scrap that has been the closest thing to a map she's used these last four years.

"When it was whole, this was a photograph of the Lonely Palms Island Art Institute class that contains both of my parents, and the class sponsor. The half of the photograph I saved didn't have my parents in it, but it _did_ have these six people — and maybe one of them could leave me to my father. So far, I've tracked down all the students in it. None of them remembered my parents — none of the ones who were alive, anyway. As for whether the dead ones could've, who knows? But the last person I have to ask — the one person who other people were able to reliably identify — was this Professor Benjamin Hedgewick, their sponsor. I don't know if there's any good reason that either of my parents would have stood out enough for him to remember, but I just need to go to him, on the off chance that he remembers one of them, that maybe he could help..."

Mal looks at Alice critically. "Are you _sure_ you want to do this?"

"What choice do I have? It's not like I have any _skills..."_

"That would just depend on how you define _skill_ ," Mal says. "They might not be the most... above-board practices, but you're handy with some of the trickier parts of making ends meet. I don't know that most of _my_ clients have use for someone with sticky fingers, but I'm sure there are plenty of folk who would _love_ the use of some fingers like that. And you're never gonna convincingly tell me that you couldn't make ends meet the old — I mean, you could always, err, steal."

Mal seems so awkward about suggesting it that Alice wonders how he's never been that desperate. It's been a long time since she's been truly hungry, but it's not something she's forgetting any time soon. In the meantime all she can say is that all of her gold is, once again, back in Mal's pocket, and she didn't even have the chance to buy herself a meal before getting back on the ship. So she'll just have to swindle one out of—

"Who does the cooking around here?" she asks. Mal looks at her strangely, his expression far more eloquent than words could ever be. "On the ship, I mean. If I wanted to see someone about a hot meal..."

"Oh, uh, Den's in charge of the meals."

"Den?"

"You knew me and Gunny when you walked on board, but not Den?"

"No, I never heard that name," she says. She doesn't add how _suspicious_ she is that she didn't hear the name, because she's not sure that Mal would like the idea of how much she'd gotten him checked out once she agreed to have Benny charter his ship. But then, sometimes you can't take chances — and it seems clear that it's paid off this time. "Who's Den?"

"He's the mechanic," Mal says. "Haven't you seen a — well, a dwarf? I'm _sure_ he's been around." However, once he takes a moment to think about it, Mal realizes that he _hasn't_ seen Den around much in the last day. Most of that isn't terribly unusual — Den keeps to himself, and his duties are in the boiler room, which conveniently doubles as a kitchen. He's probably got something warm enough to eat but perhaps not. "You know where the kitchen is, though, right? Center of the ship by the steam engine. Bit hard to miss."

"And how much would a meal be?"

Mal gives her a strange look. "You mean, how long would it take to make? I'm sure Den has something heated up already, it might not be the _best_ stew but at least it's something. Dwarves are particularly fond of mushrooms, as it turns out."

"No, no, I mean — how much would it cost?"

Mal stares at her even _more_ blankly than before. "How much would it... cost?"

"Yes," Alice says, nodding. "I mean, you seem a reasonable sort, like you ain't about to charge me an arm and a leg, but after paying you, I'm skint broke."

Mal is still staring at her blankly. "But why would I _charge_ you for a _meal?"_

Alice stares at _him_ blankly. And then, slowly, she grins. "Wow, you really _have_ never taken on passengers, have you?" she asks. _"Everyone_ charges for meals. But if you're _really_ not going to charge me..."

"When was the last time you ate?" he asks.

"Uhh..."

Her stomach chooses the worst — or perhaps the best — moment to growl. Truth is she hadn't had anything to eat the day she got on the _Nameless,_ but that was nothing new. It's only now that she's really starting to get the light-headedness that leads to desperate measures for finding new food, so there's still some hope. But suddenly she's not sure if she _wants_ Mal to know just how long it's been since she's eaten. Not because she thinks he cares, or anything like that — she's just worried that he'll think she's still a stupid kid who can't take of herself.

 _Yeah, because that would be_ so _much worse than him actually caring,_ she thinks. She's mad at herself when she answers. "A day and a half," she says. "At least — that was how long ago I got on this ship, wasn't it? Ate right before then, but..."

"But you figured you'd be able to _steal_ a better meal while you were on the run today?"

Alice blushes a little — but she doesn't look sheepish about it. "Actually I was banking on getting some of your purse to _buy_ a meal. I wasn't exaggerating about being skint, hard as that may be to believe."

"Oh, no, I can believe that," Mal says. His tone has something strange in it she can't identify — like he's pitying her, almost, but that's not the expression she's seeing on his face. It's more like — regret, or some kind of memory. "Regardless, meals on _my_ ship are free. To both crew _and_ passengers."

Alice slowly smiles. "You run a might fine establishment here, sir."

"Just — give me some space for a bit. I've got to telegram some people..."

"The Professor?"

"And others," Mal says, nodding. "I have to say, it's a fine bit of luck that you just _happened_ to be on _my_ ship when it turned out you needed _my_ contact."

Alice doesn't say anything on the matter, and looks like she won't for a long, long time. So Mal just sighs. "Go eat, then." Alice turns to go, and it's only when she's gotten to the cabin doorway that he calls out again. "Oh and Alice? _Do_ try not to eat so fast you puke, alright?"

Alice grins. "Haven't done that since my first year on the streets," she says with a grin. "Don't worry. I'll only eat fast enough to regret it in an hour or so."

Mal shakes his head disparagingly but she's already out the door again, long out of range of any comments he might want to make. And truth to be told, he's not sure he _should_ be making any more comments. He's already running dangerously close to the territory of more flirting, and even now he could feel Gunny's distant glares. It didn't help that she had now asked him to put her in contact with the Professor. Which couldn't _possibly_ end the way she wanted it, and especially not if she wanted to get any information out of him.

_Well, Alice, let's see how you handle being disappointed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the story so far, please leave kudos and/or a comment - I'd really love to know what you think. See you Monday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be a fun chapter for you guys. There are more than a few interesting developments in this chapter -- do let me know what you think of them!

Mal raps briskly on the cabin door. "Can I come in?" he calls. Alice looks up from pulling on her boots and grins.

"It's your cabin!" she calls through the closed door. A moment later, Mal comes in. He glances at Alice — she's sitting in the chair next to his desk and struggling with her boots which are, thankfully, not on top of the desk this time.

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't changing," he says, heading for his chest.

"Oh, what, my _girlish_ charms aren't enough for you?"

 _They're_ too _much for me,_ he thinks, and he's instantly glad he has something to do here. He can always rely on his ability to bury himself in a task as a reasonable distraction from _certain_ young women who are probably giving him terrible big pleading eyes and oh-so-cutely struggling to get on the boots that are probably too big like everything else she wears and—

"Why'd you give it to me anyway?"

The question knocks Mal back to his senses and he actually focuses on pulling out his boots and raincoat. "Huh?"

"The cabin. I mean, it's _your_ cabin, right? And you're the captain and all that, so I understand why it's not Gunny's. But why'd you give it to _me_?"

Mal shrugs. "You're a paying customer," he says, turning around. Alice's boots are on and they fit well, a bit snugly, even, closely hugging the curve of her calves.

"My eyes are up here," Alice says.

"I was just admiring the craftsmanship," Mal says, grinning lightly. Alice returns the expression, but her tone doesn't come out nearly as light-hearted as her expression.

"I'm serious, Mal. Why'd you give me the cabin?"

"You're a paying customer," Mal says defensively. "Didn't seem right asking you to pitch a hammock in the hold — you even got one?"

"No," Alice admits, though she can't help thinking that she would've preferred that. It would have made a perfect basis for future daydreams about working on a ship like this to really know what it was like to sleep as the crew did. But then again, she did have a prime view from here, where she could pretend she was the captain on this trip, sleeping in the quarter surrounded by logs and stores and — Wellingtons, apparently.

"Then what're you complaining for? I promised I'd get you where you're going, and I let you do it in _comfort_ , and you're complaining about that?"

"No. Well, I just mean, it's _your_ room, isn't it? Shouldn't you be using it?"

"Bit late for that, isn't it?"

 _Only if this turns out the way I hope,_ Alice thinks. She knows how unlikely that is. But where she thinks she'll be able to get a straight answer out of Professor Hedgewick, Mal knows far better what this day will look like. It's probably souring his mood more than a little bit, but he isn't about to let that stop him. Visits to the Professor are never his idea of an enjoyable afternoon — but he'll do what he has to to get by. And if this girl is gonna do it, with his help or without, he might just consider offering. As a favor. For Benny.

Unwilling to entertain that thought any longer, he practically shoves Alice off the chair.

"Hey! Rude!"

"Oh, sorry, I thought you said I should go back to using this room as if it were mine?"

"That wasn't what I mean," she complains. "All I _meant_ was, you should get to sleep in a real bed."

"And I will, starting tonight."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose. I didn't really think—"

Neither did Mal, it seems, because the room suddenly gets incredibly tense. For an instant, he can't explain it, and then he remembers that all the other people who have found themselves in his cabin when he's changing shoes are aware of his missing leg.

Alice, however, is not expecting to see a clockwork foot being extracted from Mal's work boot and slipped into the rubber boot beside it.

"Um," she says.

Mal looks down at his leg. "Oh, yes. I lost a leg. Got it replaced with this nice clockwork one. The clockwork _really_ hates the rain, though, so..." He shrugs. "I gotta keep it dry."

"You have a clockwork leg," Alice says. She sounds more than a little pained. _Well, there goes_ that _,_ Mal thinks.

"Just part," he says. "The knee and down. Well, not _all_ of the knee, just most of it. I didn't actually _lose_ much of the knee, but I did remove it, to get it replaced with this one that allows me to flex my toes."

"I'm sorry," Alice says. "I still can't quite get over the — a _clockwork_ leg? Really? An entire leg — lower half, yes, yes, I know — but a _good_ portion of leg that's just _made_ of clockwork?"

"It's really not as weird as you're making it out," Mal says. "Here, look."

With a sigh, he pries the boot off. It's more work than he'd like, separating rubber from polished bronze, but he doesn't have much choice in the matter, he can tell. Alice is _far_ too engrossed with the whole concept to put it aside, so he lets her have her moment. He's learned that things are more likely to go his way if he does.

So Alice comes over to inspect. She doesn't know much about clockwork, or prosthetics for that matter, but even to her untrained eye the work is exquisite. The overall shape of the shin and calf are formed by long bronze rods, carefully drawn into the natural curves of a limb. Inside this frame is a knot of gears that Alice has little hope of understanding. The ankle has been replaced by something that looks like it was designed by a madman with no idea when to stop tinkering. However little she knows about clockwork, there's one thing Alice can say for certain: it works damn well. She never would have guessed that inside of Mal's boot was a foot made of metal with only two toes. "You don't limp," she says.

"Hmm?"

"When you're walking, I mean. You don't — limp. The people I've seen with fake legs all sort of... limp. Is it because it's shaped like a real leg, or is it — magic?"

Mal laughs. "There's no such thing as magic," he says.

Alice rolls her eyes. "You're an elf. And there _used_ to be magic. Who says this couldn't be it? And anyway, if it's not magic, what _is_ it?"

"Very fine craftsmanship," Mal says matter-of-factly.

"Where did you — who would _make_ such a thing? _How_ would they make such a thing?"

"I don't know much about the _how_ — just what I need to keep oiled and what to look out for. Oh, and a couple weird... quirks, I've learned, about having a metal leg."

"Such as?"

"Wooden soles are not the worst thing in the world if you can't feel your foot."

Alice gives him a strange look. "Fine then, not how. But who? And where?"

Mal looks her over critically. Something about her question seems — insincere. As if she's already knows the answer, and she's fishing for it — or perhaps she's just trying too hard to act interested in him. "The who is probably the most interesting part — and timely, as a matter of fact. You want to know how I know the Professor originally? Well, you're looking at why now. Professor Hedgewick made it for me."

Alice's face lights up suddenly. "So he likes you, then? Do you think he'll help me find my father? Or would you be willing to—"

"Alice," Mal says, in the grown-up tone she hates. _Don't throw a tantrum, but I'm about to tell you bad news_ is something she gets rather frequently, and she's not sure she could handle it, now. She's got to wait until she meets the Professor and finds out what he knows, and _then_ she'll decide what to do next. Because even if he can't lead her _directly_ to her father, he should at least be able to lead her to someone who might.

"I don't want you to get disappointed, if this doesn't turn out the way you want."

 _But it's going to be fine,_ she tells herself. _Everything is going to be_ fine.

#

Mal hires a carriage to take them to their destination. Personally, Alice doesn't see why they can't just walk, at least until they've spent twenty minutes in the carriage before arriving and a light drizzle begins. It's just about the time that she's wondering why they couldn't have just landed the _Nameless_ on one of these big empty yards they're passing when the carriage finally rolls to a halt.

They get out. As Mal tips the driver, Alice admires the estate they've approached as best she can in the damp weather. _Hidden Dreams Oasis,_ reads a simple but impressive sign attached to a stone fencepost. The wrought-iron fence it supports extends around a large but impressive property, and it's _definitely_ enough to deter Alice from trying to steal anything inside it.

"Nice place," she comments to Mal.

"Yes, some of the best care money can buy," he says idly. "Come, Miranda is expecting us."

"Miranda?" Alice asks. "Aren't we going to see the Professor?"

"Well, yes, but he's not the only person who lives here," Mal says. "I think there are about — a dozen residents, currently?"

"Oh, so is it like a whole group of old professors living together, or—?"

"This is a sanatorium, Alice," Mal says. "You know — for hysterics, and the like."

"And Professor Hedgewick is working here?"

"He's a professor, not a doctor," Mal says.

"But you just said—"

"He's a tinkerer, if anything. I think he likes to use the term _engineer_ when he's feeling particularly full of himself. But he isn't working here, no. He's a patient."

Before Alice can respond to this development, Mal has recognized a figure walking with a large umbrella down the path to them. He waves vigorously and shouts a greeting, and the woman picks up her pace. As she opens the gate for them, she greets Mal graciously. She's a near sight more polite to him than their cab driver was, and it's Alice who she treats with standoffishness. "He's looking forward to seeing you, Mal," she says after they've shaken hands. "I'm glad you finally found the time to come, even if it _is_ going to rile him up again."

Here she looks pointedly at Alice. Unsure what _her_ role in all of this is, she only has the heart to look sheepish for a moment. "Look, I'm just trying to find my father. If he can help me..."

"Go see for yourself," Miranda snaps. Then she turns to Mal and says, a shade lighter, "He's in his room, go ahead and show her where. Best you get this over with while the sun's still up. At least _then_ he won't have nightmares."

Mal sighs deeply and puts his hands on Alice's shoulders. He bodily steers her towards the front door of the sanatorium. She shrugs him off with her first step, but makes her way forward regardless.

They step through the open doorway to find a dark, quiet entryway. Heavy mahogany furniture marks its use as a sitting room, although its dominating feature is a massive staircase. The staircase wraps around the back of the room, hugging three walls before continuing up another flight besides. The three of them quickly deposit dripping coats on a rack by the door.

Alice makes it up the first flight without prompting, though she hesitates on the balcony. A quick glance up and down the hallway reveals nothing but doors. She's sure there's some sort of order to the whole thing, some efficient way of giving each patient their own room, but it's sort of daunting.

"Left," Mal says from the half-platform below her. She nods, turns, and waits for Mal to get up the steps behind her. These doors all look far too similar for vague directions like the one he gave to be enough to get her where she's going, even if _he_ knows exactly what room they're going to.

"Who is she, anyway?"

"Miranda? She's the professor's niece. Lost both her parents in a fire when she was young, and he took her in. She's a trained nurse and the only one other than the headmistress who lives here. Other than the patients, of course. She's been taking care of the Professor for a _long_ time, practically as long as I've known him. Now she gets to earn a little money while she's doing it."

"Mal! You're here! And you brought a _girl_ this time!"

He and Alice turn. Mal sighs deeply — Alice's hands go to her mouth. At the end of the hall is an older man, waving energetically at them.

"You should have told me about the girl, Mal," he says, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Then I would've worn pants."

Because he is not, in fact, wearing any now.

"Let's go put some pants on, Professor."

"Introductions first," the professor says, winking at Alice. Despite herself, she giggles.

"Pants first," Mal insists. "I mean it, no pants, no introductions."

"Aww, Mal..." Alice says. But before she can get out a half-hearted protest about how they'll have come all this way for nothing — frankly, she's not sure they _haven't_ come all this way for nothing, yet — the Professor picks himself up by his non-existent bootstraps and pulls himself together.

"Now, now, little lady, don't worry about me. A man will do what he has to, even when he doesn't like it. And so — pants."

He walks into the room behind him, Mal close on his heels. Alice far more slowly takes up the rear, and soon they're all three squeezed into a room crowded with more gadgets than Alice thinks she's seen in her entire life. And that's fair saying something, since she's seen some _pretty_ impressive stashes. This is somehow even more impressive than the most valuable things she's heisted, probably because none of it _is_ particularly valuable — all of it is bits and pieces, odds and ends that make up lopsided tinkering projects and have no indication that they could ever be related to workmanship as fine as what went into making Mal's leg. Plus it seems so much more _human_ and _familiar_ somehow, all these bits and pieces of unfinished projects. In her experience, it's the stuff hidden in sterile rooms that's most valuable.

"There, now we're presentable."

Alice turns to find that Professor Hedgewick has made an impressive improvement on his appearance. He no longer looks _quite_ as eccentric now that he's wearing proper trousers and a shirt. "Hello, Professor," she says, extending a hand to shake. "My name's Alice."

"Nice to meet you, Alice. What can I do for you?"

His demeanor is calm and collected, giving off far more of the vibe that Alice was expecting _before_ they rolled up at the sanatorium. However, given where they in fact are, she's not sure that that makes her feel any better. "I was actually hoping that you knew my parents."

"Ah, lost them, have we? Well, no worries, I'll be sure to help you find them again."

"No, I don't mean—" She sighs. "Professor, my name is Alice, and my mother is Helene and my father is Lifahrn and I was hoping you could help me find him. My father, that is."

"You have his eyes, you know."

Alice stares at the Professor blankly. "I'm sorry?"

"You have his eyes — _silver_ , not gray. And a brush of green in the center. There's quite a — difference. And I swear, with eyes as expressive as Fahrn's, you'd believe the old stories that elves had magic."

"I'm... sorry?"

"Don't you know, girl? Once upon a time, or as they used to say, _when elves were young,_ the world was full of magic. It wasn't a skill everyone had, but all the elves had it. _Definitely_ the half-elves, too."

Alice glances at Mal, who simply shrugs. "I've heard it before," he says. "And _not_ just from him. But no one else has taken it quite as... seriously, as he does."

Alice nods. She's heard the stories, too, but they're bedtime stories — not real things that happen to real people. Just stories told to kids to keep them out of trouble while they're too young to know any better. They're _certainly_ not something any reasonable person would believe, as much as she'll say otherwise.

"About Lifahrn..." she prompts.

"Ah, yes, Lifahrn. A good man. A good — elf."

Alice and Mal exchange a look, but before they've had the time to complete that bit of wordless communication, the Professor has already moved on.

"— _doted_ on your mother, you know. You'd likely have a better time asking her where he is than me. Although, you said they were _both_ lost?"

"It's just my father I'm looking for," Alice says quickly. "But could you go — back, for a moment? My father is an _elf?"_

"No need to say that like it's such a bad thing," Mal grumbles.

"I'm not," Alice says quickly. "I'm just... surprised. I'd seen the picture... and it's been _years_ , but..."

"Fahrn was always good at hiding it," the Professor remarks. "Especially in photographs. That was his art, you know."

"When you taught him, you mean?"

"I mean that's what he studied, yes," the Professor says. _"I_ didn't teach him much — taught your mother a great deal, though. She's still doing portraits, right? Last I heard she'd gotten a contract for the Piers and was going to paint them all. _That_ must have been a daunting proposition, making them all different enough to tell apart."

Alice sighs. _She_ knows perfectly well the story of how her mother ended up meeting her stepfather, and not just because she was actually _there_ for most of it. "Yes, she's still doing portraits," she tells the Professor. "But what about my father? You said he's a photographer?"

"Last I saw him, he was. But that boy _did_ always have a penchant for picking up the next new thing. I wouldn't be surprised if he had already moved on to some new-fangled artistic form. I always _told_ him he should focus on the tinkering, that he'd make more money that way, but did he ever listen? No, absolutely not. And it's a shame, a real shame. He had a natural talent for creating little gizmos... Have I ever told you about the time one of my students made me a flying hat? Really, truly, a hat that could fly. It had these fancy propellers, that were driven by clockwork, and—"

"Not now, Professor," Mal interrupts. "You're helping the lady find her father, remember."

"Ah yes, hello, my dear. I am Professor Hedgewick. And you are...?"

"Alice," she says with an impressively weary sigh.

"And you're looking for your parents?"

"Just my father," she repeats. "But we've gone over this — Lifahrn, I'm looking for Lifahrn. You taught him, years ago — _decades_ even."

"Lifahrn? Lifahrn, the elf, who ran away with that lovely little Helene? Why, that couldn't have been three years ago. Surely if you're looking for your father, it's got to be someone else? He certainly wouldn't cheat on Helene. Although, if you _are_ as old as you look—"

"Where is he now, Professor? Do you know?"

"—it would've been years ago, before he knew Helene, and surely he _did_ have a life before he came to the Institute, he always had such interesting and terrible stories to tell about life as an elf..."

"Lifahrn, Professor. Do you know—?"

But the Professor continues to ramble nonsense, and eventually, Alice throws her hands in the air in a well-recognized gesture of defeat. She gives Mal a pointed look and then rises to leave the room. She is at least courteous enough to thank him for the help he didn't really give. He doesn't stop babbling long enough for her to be sure he's heard it. In fact, he doesn't say anything that she can clearly identify as an even half-coherent thought until they're practically out the door.

"Tuanaki," the Professor says, articulating clearly. This gets Mal and Alice's attention, and they turn, Alice's look far more hopeful than Mal's.

"Yes, Professor? Do you remember where Lifahrn—?"

"They have the best goldenfish in Tuanaki."

Mal sighs wearily and pulls the door shut behind them, leaving the professor inside, babbling to himself. Alice isn't sure what to think, but she only gets a few steps down the hallway before it suddenly hits her that she is _entirely_ out of leads. She'd had this list of six people who were supposed to help her. All the searching had led her here, and _four years_ of her life had been spent to find out that the only person who could have helped her was far too mad to be of any use.

"Isn't this the part where you apologize for dropping me into that without any warning?" Alice asks.

"I tried to," Mal says. "But frankly, I didn't think you'd believe me if I just — told you."

Alice considers this. "Maybe you're right," she says. "But you still could have — warned me. Said something _blunt_ , even."

Mal sighs. "Sometimes it's easier to accept things when they're just thrown in your face like that. And I didn't want to run the risk of you thinking that you just weren't trying hard enough, that he there was still a — chance, that you might get something lucid out of him."

"Is there?"

"Some days. When we showed up, I thought, there might be a chance... I didn't want to say anything before we arrived, because we'd already come all the way here. And then it seemed like he was having a lucid day."

"Even without pants?"

Mal smiles slowly. _"Especially_ without pants, as a matter of fact. They don't let him wear his teaching robes, as he's complained to me many times before — and he finds pants _constricting_ , so it's been a bit of an... adventure _._ It's about fifty-fifty whether he'll be wearing them if he knows we're coming. But they dress him, so it's definitely a conscious decision... which means there was a hope for lucidity when we arrived."

"At the end, he mentioned — Tuanaki. You don't think..."

"I think _he_ was thinking about the Tuanaki goldenfish. They're these tiny fish, about yea big," he says, holding up his thumb and forefinger about two inches apart. "They're very strange. They're almost... sweet? They get lightly battered and fried and make an excellent snack. One of the few things worth visiting Tuanaki for."

Alice glances at him sidelong. "I thought Tuanaki was _incredibly_ out of the way. But it's worth visiting for some little... fried fish?"

"Well, maybe not if you don't like fish. Or fried things. _Or_ you don't feel like going back to a time before steam power — most of the island is uninhabited, and the port, which is the most populated part of the island, doesn't even have a central steam plant. They make do, but it's very... rustic."

"Hmm," Alice says, thinking hard. To _her_ , it sounds like just the place that one would be able to get away with hiding out in and remaining undiscovered for a long, long time. But then, there's no sign that her father _actually_ dropped off the face of the earth, just that he stopped communicating with everyone he'd gone to school with. And Alice can't say she blames him; after all, _she's_ left behind everything she knows for only the vague hope of finding her father.

"Look, I know what you're thinking, that someone could have hidden out there. And, fine, if you want to get to Tuanaki, I'm not going to stop you."

Alice glances at him. "You were more than willing to take me before you knew _why_ I was going."

"Yes, and you paid enough for one trip. And I was more than willing to change the destination for free — but another trip is another cost."

"What happened to the _nice_ Captain Mal who didn't charge me for food as a passenger?"

"I made a mistake."

"Not charging me for food? I was mostly joking, you know. The _respectable_ —"

"In bringing you here," Mal interrupts. "I shouldn't've riled him up, and now _you're_ disappointed, and—"

Before Alice can comment on why _that's_ such a bad thing, there's a shout from the professor's room. "Miranda!"

With a heavy sigh, Mal turns and pulls open the door. "Professor, is there anything I can—"

"Mal! I didn't you were coming! _And_ bringing a girl! I should've worn pants!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! If you liked it, please leave kudos and/or a comment. See you Friday for Chapter 5!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for getting this one out a bit late! Hopefully the bit of fleshing out backstories that we get in this one is worth it :)

As their carriage rolls away from Hidden Springs, Alice pulls her feet up onto the bench in front of her and hugs them to her chest. "You alright?" Mal asks.

She shrugs. "I hadn't ever really thought about what I would do if I ended up here. Well, I never knew I'd be _here_ precisely, but you know what I mean. I'm not sure what to do. I spent _four_ years..."

Mal glances at her sidelong, trying to read something in her face that he doesn't find there. "I thought humans' coming-of-age was eighteen."

Alice looks up. It takes her some effort to draw her attention back into the present, but she manages to direct it towards Mal. "Elves' isn't?"

"Normally you don't make your own way to quite this extent until you're twenty-five. But then, there's usually a decade of training that precedes it..."

"So you haven't been at this as long as I thought."

"Depends on how you define _this,"_ Mal says. "Captaining my own merchant airship? No, not very long. But only because it took years for me to pay off the debt from my leg. I never actually _had_ a real elven coming-of-age."

"Because you're only half elf?"

Mal bristles a little. The comment is making things he'd much rather forget resurface — things he had _thought_ he'd already forgotten. "No, not because of that," he says, although the truth is he'll never know if he would've gotten a proper _elnyar_. "My entire enclave was killed in a flood."

"Enclave?"

"It's like a — well, the closest human analogy would be a city, but that wouldn't give you any proper idea of what it really looks like. Perhaps _tribe_ would be closer, but that has certain connotations..."

"Oh," Alice says. "I'm sorry they died."

Mal shrugs. "It was a flood, what, fifteen years ago now? I've moved on."

"Still, it can be hard, to lose people."

Mal looks at her differently. "Who have you lost?"

"Not _lost_ anyone, per se, just... left them behind."

"That's different."

"Is it really? When going back _isn't_ an option?"

"It's always an option," Mal says. "Might not be a very _good_ option, but it's always there. And when you've run out of others..."

"You don't understand," she says, curling herself into an even tighter fetal position. "I _can't_ go back. And I know that sounds stupid — I was just a kid when I ran away, it's been a few years, surely they'll let me come home. And believe you me, I wish it were that simple. But it's not. And it's never _going_ to be, either. I'll put it this way. The only way I'm getting anywhere near that house ever again is if it's in a box, and even then I'm as likely to be fed to the pigs as buried respectably."

"You don't have to defend yourself to me," Mal says. "I was just seeing if you'd thought out all your options. In case there was anywhere I could drop you."

"Other than the docks, you mean?"

"Look, I'm just trying to help you out. If you don't wanna get dropped somewhere, don't. _I'll_ be getting out there, so you have until we get there to redirect us."

"No, no," Alice says. "I'll go to the docks. I'd really love to hire on with a ship... but this doesn't seem quite the town for that, so I'll have to see who's going where. What about you? Where will you go next?"

"Depends what cargo there is to be had," Mal says idly. "We were making our way west before you dragged us up here... Maybe we'll go back, see if we can get a _real_ cargo out of Benny, and not just another favor."

Alice grins. "Paid you well, though, didn't I?"

"Well enough to feed the crew and fuel the ship," he says. "Enough to get us to Aparo, so we could get to Laka'al, and, well, hopefully the oilskins do as well as Gunny hoped. Otherwise we'll only have the money get us back to Huana, which means it'll be back to favors. Not that favors have been the _worst_ thing, but — I'd like to be a bit more in charge of where we're going. Can't be adrift forever."

"Surely there's been some things _fun_ about this trip?"

"Oh. Yes. Fun. Getting robbed, having the thief come back and ask for a favor, getting out of having to go to Tuanaki by having to come _here_ instead, yes, it's been _bushels_ of fun."

"Okay, okay, sorry I asked," Alice says, holding up her hands in a defensive posture. "I was just trying to get the lay of the land. And I don't have any money anyway, remember? So how exactly would I get on your ship again? Plus, you deserve to have the cabin to yourself."

Mal doesn't say anything, he just nods, and they lapse back into silence only broken by the rattle of the carriage wheels. It's not a short trip between the docks and the sanatorium, but it isn't a long one, either, and before they know it, they're at the base of the airship docking platform. There's a ladder for Mal to climb to get back to his ship and there's a tavern on the corner full of folk, one of whom might be able to get Alice somewhere she actually wants to be.

"Well, I guess this is it, then," Mal says.

Alice grins. "Don't say goodbye before you're going, hmm? I doubt Gunny's back from selling the oilskins yet. You know where to find me," she adds, with a pointed look at the bar. He didn't really need the hint.

"Then I won't say it," he says, returning her grin. "See you, Alice."

"See ya, Mal," she says. Then she gives him a little wave, turns on her heel, and heads for the bar. The whole thing would've painting a much cuter picture if she hadn't been interrupted mid-wave by a massive crack of thunder and a sudden downpour. Alice huddles into her leather jacket as Mal thanks his lucky stars he wore his rain clothes, for all they make him look utterly ridiculous. He's not wet _or_ cold and he finds no trouble in scampering up the ladder to the heights above the buildings where the airships are tethered. He tries to pay more attention to the many lanes of ships and the working men he crosses paths with than the daydreams that are tickling are the corners of his mind.

#

Mal and Gunny are playing cards on the aft deck in the last hours of sunlight when they're greeted by a shout from the docks. "Heads up!"

A moment later, a purse comes sailing towards them, lending in the center of their pot. It's so well done it would be comical if both Mal and Gunny didn't have a sinking feeling about who the purse belonged to.

"That's enough to get me to Huana, isn't it? I think it's about what I gave you to get here. I don't exactly recall..."

Mal and Gunny look eyes. Their expressions are equally worried, and they both, privately, find it reassuring that the other shares their feelings about the situation. Mal turns to address the visitor first, it being his responsibility as captain and all — according to Gunny's silently eloquent eyebrows.

"Alice."

A broad grin spreads over her face. "Miss me, didja?"

"Actually, we were happy to be rid of you," Gunny mutters. Mal glares at her, but Alice is actually the next to speak up.

"No, I'm sure you don't want me around at all. But no one else is going the right way — they're all going east from here. And I wouldn't, normally, ask for this, but... I just gotta get back to where I know _someone_ and I can work from there. And if this really isn't enough, I'll be happy to get you more, but that's all I could get now."

Mal weighs the purse in his palm. It's heavier than he expected — but she's right, it's near what she gave to get here. A bit short but, truth to be told, he'd over-charged her. Even with the food.

"How'd you get it, anyway?" he asks.

"You should never play cards with me," Alice says, slowly grinning. "And if you do, you should keep a _close_ eye on your purse."

Mal chuckles. Gunny kicks him gently — but not subtly. "Hey!" he exclaims. "What do you want? This is food and fuel for a week!"

"We _just_ got rid of her," Gunny complains. "Don't you _care_ that she stole your purse?"

"She returned it," Mal says, not entirely sure, even for himself, why he's defending Alice. He _was_ happy she was gone... and now he's just a tad bit happier she's back.

"Look, I promise I won't steal anything from you, now or once we get into Huana. I just — I didn't realize you could help me, so..."

"No, no, I get it, you just chartered the fast ship in the Huana docks and got the names of her crew before you got here because that's how much research you do on _all_ the ships you might be riding on, _especially_ if it'll get you closer to the person you're looking for again. A person about which the most information you have is his _name_ , and your best lead on his location is a man who's been in a sanatorium the last fifteen years?"

"I didn't know he'd be _broken—"_

Mal's tone abruptly turns cold and deadly. "He is _not_ broken," he says darkly. Then he gets to his feet in a smooth motion and immediately heads for the ladder to the hold. "You can come with but you're sleeping in the hold now, not the cabin."

A comment about discounts for lesser accommodations bubbles to Alice's lips, but she doesn't get a coherent thought out before Mal has disappeared below deck. Gunny alternates between sending deadly glares Alice's way and cleaning up their card game. It only takes a few minutes, but Alice stays silently until Gunny is passing right in front of her.

"I'm — I'm sorry," she blurts. "I didn't think—"

"Maybe you should start," Gunny says. And then she too disappears below. With a heavy sigh, Alice slides down until she's sitting with her butt on the deck of the _Nameless_ and her back against the few raised inches of the aft deck. She looks around, enjoying the rare opportunity to survey the whole ship without being watched. If she leaned back a little, she could probably reach the wheel...

On a whim, she decide to try. She leans back, stretching as far as she can — it's a bit further than she thought, but she can _just_ about — there!

She can only hold the position for an instant before she topples, landing uncomfortably with her back draped across the slightly raised planking. But, thankfully, there's no one around to see her, not even the harbor master patrolling the docks. Alice glances around again to make absolutely sure, but there's nothing and no one about.

So she carefully gets to her feet and stands behind the wheel. Tentatively, Alice reaches out and lets her sweaty palms make contact with brass that's warm from sitting in the sun. The _Nameless_ is such a gentle creature, whispering encouragement in the vent of steam and the rattle of pipes. _You can do it, Alice,_ the steam-powered voices say. _You can be a great captain one day, and all you've got to do is sail._

"What are you doing?"

Alice's eyes spring open. Mal has resurfaced, for what she reason she couldn't possibly fathom, and she still has her hands wrapped lovingly around the wheel.

She pulls her hands away as quickly as if they'd been burned and practically jumps backwards. "Nothing! I was just — doing nothing! Just, uh, walking around! And — admiring — yes, _admiring,_ that's the word — admiring your ship. She really is fine, isn't she?"

He gives her a strange look. "Yes, the _Nameless_ is a mighty fine ship. But I'd say that most of the time, _admiring_ things doesn't involve putting your hands on them."

"I'm sorry," she says. "I just — couldn't help myself. It's such a lovely ship, and — well, I've always dreamed of being an airship pi— captain."

Mal raises his eyebrows. "A what?"

"An airship captain," she repeats, as if there had been no question about what she had actually said.

"Oh? Not an airship _pirate_ perhaps?"

"Absolutely not," Alice says, though she can tell the flush is getting to her ears. With any luck it won't be too brightly noticeable against the dark of her hair. That's probably _not_ the most important thing to be worrying about, but somehow she's terribly embarrassed by the fact that she'd dreamed of being a pirate when here was someone struggling to make do without stealing. He'd clearly weighed the same costs differently.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to," he says.

"Well, no. I mean, sort of, 'cause it is _stealing_ and all, but..." She shrugs. "I don't know. I just mean, you're out here, _not_ stealing things, and you're making do."

"You could say that," Mal says. "But from where I'm standing, it's getting harder and harder to take on cargo. We've resorted to taking on cargo like... well, like you."

Alice grins wryly. "I'm that questionable, am I?"

"You _are_ hiding from the Company," Mal points out. "Not that most of us wouldn't _mind_ taking the Company down a notch, but there's a difference between that and actually being on the _run."_

"I told you, I'm not really running from _them._ Just Piers. Just _one_ Piers, and then it's more of — I'd _much_ rather avoid him. Once I would have thought he'd want to drag me home kicking and screaming, but now... Well, I'll put it this way. He's the reason I really _can't_ go home."

Mal narrows his eyes. "Then why did you say the Company is the one looking for you?"

Alice scratches the back of her neck idly. It poorly disguises the blush that's threatening to overwhelm her whole face, and in another world, she'd have given up on this conversation long ago. But something has her wanting to talk about this whole mess more, not less. "Because they would like to find me, too," she says. "They just don't know I'm me."

Mal gives her a look. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Alice grins, a little madly. "Well, you may have noticed that I, uh, like getting my hands on things that normal people wouldn't be able to. Fuller purses than mine, yes, but also far more interesting things, like the Company's latest test pistols, the company's excess food supplies... once the _Company's_ purse, I mean it _was_ going to pay some folk's salaries, but the Company has plenty more money to do that with, and I was _really_ desperate. Hadn't eaten in most of a week, and I owed someone a _lot_ of money."

"How much? No, wait, I'm not sure I want to know."

"Almost sixty thousand gold pieces," Alice says, trying to be nonchalant about it. However, it's not enough to stop Mal's jaw from dropping.

 _"How_ much?"

"I think it was fifty-seven, four? Something like that. There was fifty-three for the ship, another two for bail... Yeah, I think that's right. Fifty-seven thousand, four hundred gold pieces I owed at the end of all that. If I'm remembering correctly."

"How, exactly, did you end up owing someone that much money? And why...?"

Alice grins a little sheepishly. "I botched a job," she says. "And — a bit terribly. Got arrested and everything. The _real_ problem was the ship was wrecked and so _that_ had to be replaced, which as I'm sure you know isn't cheap. As a matter of fact, I ended up getting thrown in jail in Finette, so I kind of ended up right under the Company's nose. Hence the rather _sizable_ bail for someone as harmless as little ol' me. So when I got out, I owed the mate what sprung me twice over, for springing me and also for the ship. Plus I'd gotten all my gear confiscated, so I had to replace all of that. And that was _not_ a debt I liked to keep around. So as questionable as it may have been to lift the Company's paychecks, I had to do _something_."

"And there was just enough left over after the debts that you could get by, hmm?"

"What, are you getting mad that I didn't lift a _higher_ paycheck? I'm not sure whose paycheck you expect to be higher than the one the Company's giving out to their _independent contractors_ but I can tell you one thing, it _was_ only a bit more than enough to cover my debts, and that's why I _didn't_ keep stealing after I'd gotten it. Now, if there'd've been a bigger score, I won't say I wouldn't have tried for that, but there _weren't,_ and I'll have you know that no merchant ship running perfectly legal cargo could ever make a living out here. Surely you've taken on some kind of less-than-legal cargo before, am I wrong?"

Mal doesn't answer that directly. He knows he nothing he says will actually _help_ him, so it's far easier to avoid the matter by changing the subject entirely. "Where are you gonna go after we get back to Huana?"

Alice shrugs. "I haven't really thought about it. Probably it'll come down to who's hiring. Why are you so interested, anyway?"

"Just trying to figure out what made you come back here after you'd so comfortably left. It seemed like the _last_ thing you wanted when you left was to be near me."

"It seemed like the last thing _you_ wanted was for me to be around!" Alice exclaims. "It's not like _I_ was particularly upset when it turned out that none of the other airship captains are willing to take on an extra untrained hand. Plus there were a few too many captains whose handshakes were a bit _friendlier_ than I would like. You're a terrible flirt but at least you don't only see me as a meal."

"Ouch."

"What?"

"I feel somehow offended, that the only reason you came back is because I _didn't_ offend you. Like I must be doing something wrong, but that would mean I _should_ be offending you, which is just patently untrue."

"Ah, alright. You're feeling conflicted about being a decent person. Guess we're more alike than I thought." Alice sighs and then wipes her palms on her thighs. She's not sure if they're actually sweaty or if she's just so anxious she thinks they are. She's not sure that the difference really matters. "Well, I suppose I'll let you get back to — whatever it was you came up here to do. And, uh, sorry for messing with your ship. I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, it's alright," Mal says. "You didn't do anything. I was just — surprised, to see you standing there. I thought you would've, well, moved, while I was below."

And none of _that_ even mentioned how the sight of her had floored him, had made him stop and stare and think foolish romantic things like _What if she's the one?_ and _What if you never find out?_ and other terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thoughts. But there was something so _appealing_ about the sight of her standing there, a hand on the wheel, grinning at some private at thought that only she knew, and—

"I guess I'll be going, then," Alice says. "I'll go, and, uh, hang my hammock."

With this awkward exit she scurries down to the upper hold. Mal can only hope she gets Gunny to help her and they'll both leave him alone for a while. Or at least as long as it takes for them to be able to leave. Gunny has secured them a cargo, but it won't be delivered for a few hours yet. Mal is used to this kind of delay, as it's not exactly the first time it's happened, but he can't say he particularly enjoys it. Fortunately, they don't have to wait much longer, and by the time evening falls, they are ready to begin the journey back to Huana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, leave me kudos and/or a comment! See you Monday for Chapter 6.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously what this story was lacking in was action, so this chapter ramps that up a notch. Hope you enjoy!

After a couple days in the air comes one of Mal's familiar sleepless nights. Gunny only lets him take one of her watches, so he gets a break around dawn. In that quiet moment, he decides to take the time to tend to his leg. It's not the only thing that deserves his attention, but it's always at the top of his list. He'll feel it first if he lets it get neglected. After some rummaging in his chest, he pulls out a keyring with a few _very_ small keys on it and flips through them for the one he's actually looking for. He props his foot up on the chest so that it's close enough for him to find the miniature keyhole. He's just about to unlock it when he hears Gunny's shout from the deck above him.

"Mal! Blacksails!"

 _What is with all these extra blacksails about?_ Mal wonders, hurriedly putting away the keys. Then he scoops up his second set of pistols. When dealing with _people,_ looking the least intimidating an elf can look is a decent strategy, but when dealing with blacksails, all he's worried about is not dying. And potentially getting away with his ship intact.

There's a knock on his door and someone timidly calls his name through it. "Mal? What's going on?"

Mal sighs as he crosses the room, offering a brief but faithless prayer to save their sorry skins. He vaguely regrets letting Alice back on board — or perhaps just leaving after nightfall, despite it being common for them. And he can't help laying _some_ of the blame for it on Alice, since the blacksails haven't troubled them any in _months_. Then again, he hasn't been out this way in a while. Regardless, worrying about why the blacksails are here won't stop them from being here.

Mal opens the door a bit roughly and Alice is actually a bit startled to see him standing there with two pistols strapped across his chest for easy access. She's sure that _hasn't_ changed the fact that he's also wearing one on his hip, as per usual. But somehow he looks quite a bit more intimidating like this — coat flapping and metal glinting and—

"Do you know what blacksails are?" he asks.

 _"Everyone_ knows what blacksails are," Alice says indignantly. "I mean, who _hasn't_ heard the ghost stories about the mutant creatures who never sleep and who will hunt you down and never rest until they've killed you if you take anything that's theirs? They're just _stories,_ but—"

"They aren't stories," Mal says, a bit too darkly, perhaps. But the words are already out and he can't take them back. "They're quite real. And Gunny's spotted some one the horizon.'

"They're not _real,"_ Alice says. "They're just pirates, or—"

Mal shrug. "Come up and see for yourself. But don't come up unarmed."

Alice isn't, anyway. But somehow, given the _amount_ of weaponry now attached to Mal's person, she feels _under-_ armed, which is a different matter entirely. "What do you want me to do?" she asks.

"Just stay out of the way. And, if I say duck, for gods' sake, _duck._ "

Alice isn't entirely sure why she'd have to agree to that, but she nods. Then she lets Mal lead the way up to the deck.

"Gunny?"

"Blacksails two points to starboard," Gunny says. "They're a bit of a ways off — only saw their dark sails against the horizon. But — I think they're coming this way."

"You haven't _taken_ anything of theirs, have you?" Alice asks.

 _"You're_ the thief," Gunny says.

"Hey! I'm not a thief! I just... use other people's money to finance my hobbies."

"And that's _not_ stealing?"

"I never said it wasn't stealing," Alice protests. "I'm just not a thief."

Mal shakes his head and takes the spyglass that Gunny is offering him, holds it up to his eye, and scans the horizon for the distant ship. It takes a bit, given the distance, but as Gunny said, their eponymous black sails stand out surprisingly well in all the pastel pinks and oranges of sunrise — and it's not _that_ far past dawn, after all. Just far enough that something showing up _that_ dark couldn't possibly be natural.

"I hope you're a thief who can fight," Mal says. "They're _definitely_ coming this way." Then, he turns towards the hold, and shouts, loud enough to deafen the women, _"DEN! FIRE UP THE SECOND BURNER!"_

Then he turns to Gunny. _She_ at least was prepared for his shout, and isn't quite as deaf as Alice. "He _is_ awake, right?" he asks her.

"I _think_ so. He was awake when I came up — so unless he's fallen asleep since then—"

However, they get the answer quickly enough, in the form of a massive shudder that works it way through the ship's pipes and then a brief whistle of escaping steam. Den, as far as can be deduced from their deck-side position, does as he's bid and fires up the second burner. It'll give them a bit more speed, and hopefully a bit more altitude as some of the heat is also transferred to heating the ship's balloon.

"Come one, come on, just a bit more height and we're above the cloud cover..."

While Gunny and Mal trade the spyglass back and forth, keeping an eye on the blacksails and also their forward motion, Alice keeps to herself, leaning against the rail of the ship. They're going at quite a clip and the breeze up here is not _quite_ unbearable, but it's getting close. Still, at least she's finally _glad_ for the warmth of her father's jacket. She huddles into the familiar leather and wishes she'd brought her scarf, but she's been hopping between all the tropical islands recently and _more_ warmth has been the last thing she's wanted—

"Alice, I need to you be very straight with me right now."

Alice turns, startled. She's been lost in thought and suddenly Mal is looming over her, looking angry — but also, possibly, afraid?

"Um, what about?"

 _"Have_ you stolen anything from the blacksails?"

"No! Well... I don't _think_ so. I mean, how would I know that I've stolen anything from _the bogeymen?_ So I don't _think_ so — unless the blacksails are somehow working for the Company."

Mal sighs deeply, and the bottom drops out of Alice's stomach.

"They... _aren't_ , are they? Working for the Company, I mean? I mean, yes, I've stolen things from the Company before, but—"

"I don't know if they're working for the Company," Mal says. "But they seem _very_ intent on following us and—"

Suddenly Mal turns to Gunny. "Gunny, what's in the hold right now?"

She shrugs. "Some food. Uh, bananas, I think? Not sure. It was crated already. It's not taxed but—"

"It was crated already?" Mal asks.

"Yes, but I trust Ellery."

"And _usually_ I would too, but we've got blacksails on our tail. Keep an eye on the sails and shout when we break through the cloud layer. Alice, come with me."

Mal hands Gunny back her spyglass and heads straight for the hold. Alice is right behind him. She's not sure _why_ he's asked for her but she's more than willing to be swept up in the excitement. She's actually kind of grinning as they scurry down the first ladder, across the upper hold, and to the cargo hatch.

"All good, Mal?"

Alice looks over to the sound of the voice. In the doorway to the cabin is someone who cannot be described as anything _but_ a dwarf. He's about four feet tall with well-weathered skin and shoulders as broad as some of the largest men that Alice has ever met. She's sure it's impolite to be staring as she is, but she can't help it. Elves have always been a constant part of her life — because she's interacted with the servants of nicer households, including once upon a time her own, but they're also far more common to end up alongside the rest of the gutter trash that haunts the streets. Those are, of course, Piers' words, but she can't help thinking them sometimes, especially when some of the elves she known have also been the _worst_ people she's known. She's known good elves too, like Mal, but then, she's rarely met any who are as successful at what they do as him.

And then _he's_ only half an elf.

"Blacksails on the horizon," Mal tells the dwarf. "Alice, Den. Den, Alice."

"Hello," Alice says, a little distractedly. Den just turns around and returns to the boiler room. "Well, he seems—"

"Come on, Alice, no time to dawdle."

She sighs. All _she_ wanted to do was talk about how strange it is to see a dwarf, and now Mal won't let her do that. Sometimes it can be hard biting her tongue, but her precarious position entirely depends on that ability.

In the meantime, she and Mal descend into the cargo hold. It's incredibly dark until Mal lights a lantern and passes it to Alice. "Come help me get this crate open."

From somewhere unseen Mal pulls out a crowbar. Alice holds the lantern high, so that she can see what he's doing as well as he can. It doesn't take much work for him to pry the top off the chest. Inside there's a bit of hay for packaging. Alice isn't sure why _bananas_ would need to be protected like that — and then Mal brushes aside enough straw that they can both see a metal box hidden under the hay.

Mal lets out a long stream of Elven curses, most of which Alice doesn't know. A few she does — enough to know that this is _not_ what he wanted to find. Hell, this crate should be full of bananas, not... whatever's in the small chest.

Mal fiddles with the chest a little. "Damn. Locked. Alice, up in the cabin, there's a pair of—"

"Let me," she says, grinning suddenly. She slips her picks out of the inner pocket of her jacket and hands the lantern off to Mal. Then she picks up the locked metal box, brushes as much straw off it as she can, and gets to work. The lock isn't _terribly_ difficult, but it's a bit sticky, and she almost wonders if she'd be better at picking it in the dark. But there's not nearly enough time for those kinds of shenanigans and then there's a sudden, reassuring _click!_ and the lid separates from the bottom by a quarter of an inch. She pries it open and finds—

"What the hell?"

"It looks like some kind of... syringe," Mal says.

"Yeah, no shit," Alice says. "But — what's in them? Why'd Gunny get told they were bananas? And why's whatever's in them so — glittering?

As a matter of fact, it's glittering so brightly it's almost as if it's they've brought over another lantern. There's some kind of liquid in the syringe that looks like melted gold with flakes of _something_ super shiny inside of it. It's not at all clear what it could possibly be.

Other than what the blacksails are after.

"Shit," Mal says, a heavy crease forming between his brows. "Alright, we need to..." He rubs his forehead, but it doesn't do anything to alleviate the impending headache. He doesn't really expect it to. What they _need_ to do is drop this cargo right away, but if they do that then they won't have anything to deliver, and as bad as the blacksails are, there's not much reason to ever go back to Ellery if they can't do this delivery.

Perhaps because Ellery doesn't _want_ them to come back — otherwise why would he have given them this cargo? Something he _knew_ was tainted by—

"Alice, go tell Gunny what we've found. Tell her if she can get us above the cloud cover I can take over the helm, but I need to figure out what to do with this cargo. Which, I presume, is _all_ these syringes." He curses again, muttering something incredibly insulting, because at least it's helping him focus on only one thing at a time, and not too many. When he's done, Alice is still in front of him.

"What are you waiting for? Go!"

His bark startles her into heading for the stairs but it doesn't stop her from saying, "Can't we just drop the cargo?"

"It's not that simple!" he shouts after her. "It's _never_ that simple," he mutters to the cargo hold. The hold that's _full_ of the kind of contraband he never _wanted_ to deal with — something he can't identify, that he's, very likely, going to get killed for.

"Well, this has been fun," he mutters. "Time to see if we can out race them." Mal pulls himself together and then heads back up to the deck.

#

The rising sun is bright as he emerges on deck. Gunny is guiding the _Nameless_ high into the clouds, while Alice has the spyglass trained on the horizon. "Updates?" Mal barks, and this time Alice doesn't startle. Instead, she shouts a response over her shoulder.

"No change! Come see?"

He slides up next to her and takes the spyglass when she offers it. With little trouble he spots the offending ship n the horizon. The black sails are distinctive and visible, but that's not what intrigues him. The ship appears to be sailing parallel to them, rather than headed after them. It's a good sign. If the blacksails are on patrol, then they're unlikely to hunt down a speck of a ship at the edge of their range. It's the best the _Nameless_ can hope for, anyway.

Mal turns back to Gunny. "How long?"

"Twenty minutes!" she answers. It's longer than he'd like, but it's hardly long enough for the blacksails to close the distance.

"Come on, girl," he murmurs under his breath, clutching the railing. "You can do it."

Alice raises an eyebrow at him but he ignores it. He doesn't know how to explain himself in a way that doesn't sound foolish, so he doesn't bother trying. The _Nameless_ can hear him, and that's the only important part anyway. He know she's just a ship, and that magic died long ago, but he's a sailor at heart. There's a certain amount of superstition required to do the job, and who is he to begrudge that? When it comes to escaping from blacksails, he'll take every advantage he can get.

The twenty minutes it takes them to break through the cloud layer are incredibly tense, but thankfully uneventful. The blacksail ship continues its trek across the horizon, getting neither closer nor further. At the speed they're traveling, the wind is biting, but Mal makes a point to stay at the rail until they break through the cloud. Once he and Alice are showered in chilly dew, they've little reason to stay out in the open. With a nod to Gunny, Mal leads Alice back inside where it's warm.

"Well, that was uneventful," Alice says, sitting down on Mal's bunk.

"Be thankful for that," he says, stooping over his desk. "Now, where did I put that map... Ah, yes, there we go." He pulls out a tool Alice has never seen before and starts making notations on the map.

"What are you doing?" she asks, leaning in to see.

"Checking our course," Mal answers distractedly. "The air currents up here are different, they're going to blow us off-course. I'm trying to see how much." He spends another minute frowning at the map, makes a few more notations, and then nods thoughtfully. "Alice?"

"Mal?"

"How would you like to take an all-expense-paid trip to Tuanaki?"

She bats her eyelashes at him. "Would I ever," she says. "I can't imagine that's on the way to our destination, however."

"No, not exactly," Mal admits. "And it means we'll have to stop for water in Aparo if we can't get any on Tuanaki. But it _does_ take us away from the blacksails right now. So what do you say?"

Alice doesn't have to think about it for very long. She grins at him. "I already said I was in," she says. "Maybe we'll even get to try the goldenfish."

Mal nods enthusiastically. "I can definitely make that happen. Now, I've got to go loop Gunny in. You're welcome to come, but I would _highly_ recommend a pair of goggles if you do."

To his surprise, she shakes her head. "I think I'll stay inside, thanks. I'll, uh, be in my hammock, if you need me."

"Yes, yes, of course," Mal says quickly, getting to his feet in a bit of a rush. "It will be a few days, but I'll make sure you know when we're coming in to land. We should be doing that at a more reasonable speed."

"Thank you, Mal," she says, smiling earnestly at him. He's already standing at the cabin door, and he pulls it open. Although she's dying for a closer look at his map, Alice steps through the door when Mal gestures. Then, she retreats to her hammock as promised while Mal goes to talk to his first mate about their change in agenda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! See you Friday, when we might finally make the eponymous trip to Tuanaki (or will we?)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the chapter we've all been waiting for... Finally the _Nameless_ crew arrives on Tuanaki! This is a bit of a longer chapter to start off the weekend right so I hope you enjoy.

On their fifth afternoon out of Laka'al, when their empty water barrels are starting to become a concern, Tuanaki finally comes into view. It's not a huge island, but not a tiny one, either. The surface is dominated by a dormant volcano, and sheer mountain ridges divide the island in distinct segments. In the largest space between two ridges is nestled a small but vibrant community that is clearly taking advantage of the abundance in the local waters. There isn't much open area here for expansive farms, and it's far enough south that the weather gets properly chilly in the winter. Come July, the ground will even freeze, and for once, Alice knows she'll appreciate her leather jacket on the ground.

Instead of a proper skyport like the main belt islands, all Tuanaki has is a single landing platform in the middle of a large, empty clearing. The platform has a cargo lift and a small area to stand on while transferring cargo. Fortunately, there aren't any other airships around, so the _Nameless_ has no trouble finding a secure position to tether against. While Gunny is on the platform tying them down, Mal and Alice are standing on the deck, looking out over the town.

The arrival of an airship is clearly a big ordeal, and the pair can see a mob slowly growing from the townsfolk. "I don't like the looks of that," Mal says. "That's the kind of mob that turns bad quickly." He leans over the railing and shouts down to Gunny. "I'm coming down!"

"Me, too," Alice says immediately.

"No, you should stay here," Mal says.

"And miss the first bit of excitement in days? No thanks. And believe me, I've been in hairy situations before. I can handle myself, I promise."

Mal sighs. "Fine. You can come, but don't say I didn't warn you when it gets bad." Without further ado, he climbs over the rail and slowly begins to descend the rope ladder they'd slung over the side in preparation for Gunny to return. Alice follows him, and with the three of them crowding the watchtower, the townsfolk who approach them remain on the ground twenty feet below them.

Finally, their designated spokesperson arrives. He is a middle-aged man, decently but simply dressed. Clearly this man is used to speaking before a crowd, and has no trouble projecting his voice so the visitors can hear him clearly. "Hail, travelers! I am Gavin, the mayor of Tuanaki! What wares have you brought us?"

"We have brought no wares to sell," Mal shouts back, and Alice is surprised at how comfortable he is to be addressing a mob that is quickly growing discontented. "We were blown off course tying to avoid blacksails, and we were hoping to purchase some supplies before heading on our way."

There's a brief swell in the noise of the murmuring crowd as the locals pass this information back and forth. Gavin quickly moves to quiet them, and he mostly succeeds. Then the quiet is broken by a raucous shout.

"Why should we trust an elf?"

From the top of the landing platform it's hard to see who's responsible. However, the effect is clear and immediate. The crowd erupts, arguing amongst themselves as much as directing their anger at the trio on the platform. The mayor is clearly losing his grip over them, so Mal does what he can to buy them a bit more time.

"We mean you no ill! All we want is to refill our water barrels, and then we'll leave."

Some of the assembled crowd nods thoughtfully, as if they believe Mal's story is reasonable. Unfortunately, they're the overwhelming few. They're even treated to another shout from the back of the crowd, though this one comes from someone new. "Lies! You're working for Fahrn! Well, you're not going to spy on me, I won't let you!"

As soon as her father's name is said, Alice glances sharply at Mal. The captain ignores it, turning his back to the crowd. "Alright, back to the _Nameless_ ," he orders, and shoes the women forward. Gunny starts to climb, but Alice hesitates.

She's not the only one to have misgivings. "Wait!" Gavin shouts. Gunny keeps climbing, but Mal turns back to the crowd. However, it's not Mal that Gavin addresses next, but rather the assembled crowd. "Is this how the people of Tuanaki treat a guest? Then no wonder we have so few visitors! Shame on you!"

Then, suddenly, the mayor doffs his hat, and squints as straight up at Mal as he can manage. "Captain, if you would be so kind as to lower you water barrels to the ground, I will _personally_ see to it that they are refilled. What say you?"

Mal smiles. He reaches for Alice's shoulder and pulls her clearly into sight as he speaks. "Well, I say that you'll likely need someone to haul the full barrels back. Take this sailor here, she's happy to help." He gestures towards the cargo lift.

Alice shoots him a glare as she steps towards it. "You owe me," she mutters.

Mal's look is all innocence. "I thought you'd want an opportunity to track down your father," he says. Then his mouth briefly twists into a smirk, but before Alice can say anything, Gunny is opening up the loading hatch from the inside.

"Mal," she grunts, and he heads back towards the _Nameless_. He quickly rolls the barrels over to the cargo lift beside Alice. She tries to help, but she's not exactly sure what she's doing, and she feels like she's more in the way. It takes a little while, but eventually Alice and a dozen barrels are all situated on the lift.

Then, Mal grabs her hand briefly, at an angle the locals can't quite see. In his hand is a purse Alice has seen before, and she takes it without having to ask. "Insist on paying them," Mal says just as quietly it as the gesture. "It doesn't have to be much, but make sure it's something."

Alice nods, tucking the purse into the inner pocket of her jacket. "Got it, Cap'n!" she declares flippantly. Mal shakes his head, turning back towards the control wheel for the lift. It's manually operated, and he begins turning it to lower Alice to the ground. With a dull thud, the lift eventually makes contact with the ground.

Mal sticks his head out over the railing. "Give a holler when you're back!" he calls down, and then Alice is left alone with the people of Tuanaki.

At first, none of them know what to make of her. Some stare at her as if she's going to spontaneously change shape, but eventually the group is convinced that she is not elf. This means they quickly lose interest in her, but that has both advantages and disadvantages. After the crowd has cleared out from close around her, Alice can tell that the rest of the village is uphill from here, and the prospect of rolling all the barrels up it by herself is miserably daunting.

"Hail, sailor!" calls one of the only people still around. Alice turns to see the mayor standing beside an open cart, pulled by a pair of chestnut horses that eye the airship with obvious distrust. There is a gangly teenage boy standing beside the horses, and Alice smiles at them.

"Hello! Could I perhaps borrow your cart there?"

Gavin chuckles. "You may have my son as well. Victor, go help the woman with her barrels."

Victor sighs with exaggerated weariness before climbing up onto the bench seat. He clucks to the horses and they approach the lift platform. Once there, he and Alice work together, quickly getting the cart loaded. Then Victor climbs back up into the driver seat. Alice promptly joins him, and then they're off.

Their journey takes them up through the town, and Victor keeps his mouth firmly shut. At first, Alice tries to occupy herself by looking around, but there's not all that much to see. Tuanaki really _is_ a little nothing of an island. The biggest buildings are a general store, a church, and a town hall. There are quite a few houses, but they're all simply made, and no one is fond of ostentatious decorations. Finally, when Alice thinks she'll about go crazy if she sees another brown house with a brown door and a brown roof, she turns to Victor.

"So... you like living in Tuanaki?"

To her surprise, he actually responds. At first, she thinks Victor is just flapping the reins, but when he speaks she realized he was probably just trying to shrug. "It's alright, I guess. It's not bad, it's just kind of... boring."

"Really? I hadn't guessed," Alice says dryly. He chuckles a little.

"It's not that bad, though. We've got everything we need, and the ships come by often enough. But I'm sure you'd think it dull, after being a sailor."

"Oh, I'm not a sailor," Alice says quickly, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth she regrets them. She knows immediately what question Victor is going to ask her next, and the worst part is there isn't enough time to come up with an answer.

"Then what do you do?"

"I, uh... I mean I'm not _just_ a sailor, I do bunch of different things."

"Like what?"

She shrugs. "Anything, really. Within reason, of course — it's not like I'm some expert tinkerer here to make a dirigible or anything. But I can carry, and read and write, and pretty much everything else you can learn in an afternoon."

"You learned to sail in an afternoon?" Victor asks, shock. Alice grins at him.

"No, no. I'm really just hitching a ride with these guys. I figured I should pull my weight."

Victor gives her a sidelong glance. "It awful looked like the captain was just offering you up," he says, not quite meeting her eye. To his surprise, Alice just laughs.

"Yeah, I didn't exactly volunteer. But I don't mind that much, it's only fair. And anyway, I'm looking for someone."

"Who?"

"Fahrn."

Alice is looking at her companion as she says this, so she can hardly miss the way he stiffens. It surprises her that mention of her father inspires such a reaction, but the truth is, she never knew the man. All she has to go on is her mother's stories, and even Alice could tell they were rose-tinted recollection of better days. "Things were simpler then," Helene would say, as if that necessarily made them _better_.

"Why are you looking for the elf?" Victor asks her quietly.

"It's none of your business. I need to talk to him, let's leave it at that. Do you know where to find him?"

"No," he says firmly. It's such a decisive answer that she falls silent, and they sit awkwardly side-by-side until they reach the large well that serves the town. Even working together, it takes a few hours to refill all the barrels. Then they load the cart back up and return to the clearing where the _Nameless_ is waiting.

Once they've passed through town again, and they are in the clearing alone, Victor finally speaks about anything other than water. "Listen, I won't give you directions, even if I knew them — and no one else would, either. But up in that airship of yours, if you look around, you'll find him soon enough."

Alice, who is caught up worrying about how they'll get the barrels back on the lift, stares at him blankly for a moment. Then she realizes that he's talking about Fahrn, and she gives him a small smile. "Thank you. Will you help me load the barrels back into the lift? And then don't just disappear on me, okay?"

Victor looks confused, but Alice has already jumped down from the cart and walked around to the back. It takes quite a bit of work but they manage to get the lift all packed back up, this time with full barrels. Only then does Alice finally pull Mal's purse from her inner pocket. She digs out a few silver coins and extends them to Victor. "For your help."

He stares at her, shocked. "What... No, no, I couldn't possibly take this. I don't deserve it."

"Oh, please. I could never have done that without you. And if there's one thing I've learned from doing so many odd jobs, it's that you should never turn down a fair day's pay just because it's something you like to do."

Dubiously, Victor takes the coins. "Thank you, miss," he says. Alice gives him her most winning grin and then cranes her neck up towards the upper level of the platform and the _Nameless_ moored beside it.

"MAL!" she bellows at such a volume that it startles one of the horses. Victor hurries away to tend to the beast, and Alice waits impatiently for Mal's head to lean over the railing.

"Yes?" he asks, his tone and expression the picture of nonchalance.

"Bring me up, will you?"

Mal seems to consider it for a moment. "Yeah, alright," he answers, and a moment later the lift shudders to life, bringing Alice and the water up to the platform.

#

Gunny is in the midst of stowing barrels in the hold when a sudden shout comes from the depth of the _Nameless_. Mal, who has been standing on the main deck and supervising the barrels from above, looms over the opening. "What?" he shouts down.

"We've got live cargo!" comes the reply. Mal frowns deeply into the dark hold — there's a dozen different things she could mean and he's not sure he likes any of them. Then comes another shout that worries him even more: "Bring your kit!"

"Alice," Mal says quickly. She's still standing beside the cargo, where she's been trying to talk him into flying around the island in search of Fahrn. "Can you keep watch? Just shout if you see anything weird. I need to go make sure everything's alright."

She nods enthusiastically. "I've got it, go take care of whatever that is," she says. "I'll be right here, promise. I'm not about to go looking for Fahrn on my own."

Mal grins at her and then heads straight for his cabin. He throws open his chest and grabs his medical kit. Although he's got plenty of the basics, he doesn't have a great variety of supplies. As an elf, he can't receive a medical license, and without one, he has difficulty getting supplies any more advanced than bandages. Fortunately, the Sisters taught him how to make do on his own, so he has a small collection of salves and poultices to heal the most common injuries on a ship.

All these are kept in a convenient kit stored in his chest, and this he takes with him as he descends into the ship to find out what exactly is in their cargo hold. This time, that turns out to be a girl on the cusp of adolescence. Gunny has clearly been chewing her out, as she's cowering under Gunny's glare and trying to hide one of her hands behind her back. It's not particularly effective.

"What's going on?" he asks, his tone neutral but firm, and the women turn to look at him. From the look on the girl's face, Mal can see she'll be trouble. She looks more guilty for getting caught than anything else. And, once Mal gets close enough, he can tell she's an elf. Given the way the townsfolk reacted to him, Mal has a good feeling why she'd want to get away.

"Found this stowaway trying to hide in the cargo," Gunny says tersely. "She refuses to show me her palm. I found her because she yelped when she injured it."

"Will you please show me your hand?" Mal asks gently.

"No."

_"¿Palhim?"_

The girl looks startled when he changes languages on her, but she quickly recovers. "No. You're not the boss of me."

"I just want to help you. I have training as a healer."

She thinks about this for a moment. "Fine," she grumbles. "Take a look at _that_ , why don't you?"

As she says this, she thrusts her hand into the light. The bottom of her palm is badly cut up, like she crushed glass into it. Through the blood, Mal can see something faintly glowing.

He quickly gets to work. "What happened?" he asks calmly as he sets his kit on top of the closest crate. "Can you get Den to put some water on to boil for bandages?" he asks Gunny, and with an affirmative nod she's off.

"I leaned on one of your tubes of glowing liquid," the girl says. She doesn't sound particularly remorseful.

Mal frowns at her palm for a moment instead of responding. Then he flips open his kit and digs around for some clean rags. Once he finds them, he takes the girl's hand in his and carefully pats away the excess blood. "Was this before or after you pried one of my crates open?"

"It was open!" she protests. "I promise! I don't have anything to get a crate open anyway."

"Hmm," Mal says. It's entirely possible that in the excitement they'd forgotten to seal back up the crate they'd inspected — or, more likely, that they'd simply done it badly. However, none of that answers the most pressing question. "Alright, girl."

"My name's Rhai."

Mal nods. It tells him more about her than her appearance does — she's an enclave elf, if indirectly. No former slave would give their child such an obviously elven name. "Rhai, then. What are you doing on my ship?"

Finally, she looks somewhat abashed. "I wanna get off this stupid island," she says. "I was just looking for somewhere to hide. I wasn't trying to steal your stuff. Promise."

"I'm not particularly inclined to believe someone who stowed away on my ship. And I'm sure you have a family who would miss you very much if you just left them without any warning."

Rhai puffs herself up proudly. "I left _Sami_ a note."

"And the rest of your family?"

She makes a face. "It's just me'n _Sami_ ," she says. "That's why I wanna leave. I'm bored here. There's nothing to _do_ , just listen to him drone on and on about _independent sovereignty_."

Mal frowns. "You'd better be careful who you say such things to," he says. "You never know who might be listening. And there are some islands where what you just said is enough to get you jailed."

"Uh-huh, sure," she says. "Even if that _were_ true, we're still on Tuanaki."

"Which means _I_ can still send you home," Mal points out. "And that's rather what I'm inclined to do."

"Aww, come on," Rhai protests, but she doesn't get much further. Gunny descends carefully into the hold, carrying a bucket of water liberated from one of the new barrels.

"Here's some water if you need it now. Mind if I work with Alice to get the last of the barrels in?"

"That's fine," Mal replies distractedly. He reaches for the bucket and she happily hands it over. With a damp rag and some clean, dry ones, he removes all the blood from Rhai's hand. Doing so reveals that heel of her palm has taken on the shimmering, golden appearance of the liquid inside their mysterious syringes. The color is really the only sign that something happened — it's too iridescent to be natural. Alice would probably call it magic.

"Does it hurt?" he asks.

Rhai shakes her head. "It doesn't really feel like anything."

Mal frowns. "Well, then. I think you're alright to go home now."

"But I don't want to go home!" she protests. "I want to go with _you._ "

"No."

"But—"

_"No,"_ he says firmly. "I'll drop you overboard if I have to. I'd rather just put you down on the platform. So which'll it be?"

"Don't leave me here now!" she says, and she actually sounds frightened. "If you're going to leave me on the island, will you at least take me home?"

"I'm not particularly inclined to do any favors for someone who stowed away on my ship," he says. Then something occurs to him. "Rhai, what's your father's name?"

"Lifahrn," she says. "But why do you want to know that?"

Instead of answering, he nods. Then he asks Rhai a question of his own. "Do you think you can give us directions back to your father's house?"

She frowns. "I know how to get back through the caves, but an airship's never going to fit in there. I can tell you which direction though. We just gotta make sure it's still light when we go over there, it's hard to see in the dark."

"Then we'd better get these barrels loaded quickly. Stay here," Mal orders firmly, and he's relieved when Rhai settles against the nearest crate. He works with both Gunny and Alice to get the barrels stowed as quickly as possible, but the evening keeps rolling on. By the time he brings Rhai up to the deck to point out their heading, it's difficult for her to pick out. However, she manages to get her bearings and gives them confident if imprecise directions.

"That way," she declares, pointing in a northwesterly direction, roughly towards the volcano. "Just over that ridge."

Mal doesn't know exactly how far that is, and he's not particularly inclined to find out in the dark. "Alright, but I don't think we'll be able to take you tonight. You'll have to stay on the ship for the night."

Rhai looks far too excited by this possibility. Gunny, meanwhile, is aghast. "She's going to do _what_?" Gunny asks.

"Stay on the ship," Mal repeats, before glancing briefly at Alice. "Then we'll take her back to her father, Lifahrn."

"Oh, will we? And he wouldn't happen to be the same Fahrn the townsfolk accused us of working for, would it?"

"I don't know about that," Alice says, "but I think it's the same Fahrn I've been looking for."

Based on Gunny's ensuing frown, Mal didn't tell her what happened when they visited the Professor — or at least, not what little they had learned. Part of Alice appreciates the privacy, but another just wishes that Gunny was in the loop. "You have reason to believe he's actually here?" she asks.

"Yes," Alice says, and fortunately, it's confident enough to quiet Gunny's protests. "Enough reason that I would really, _really_ appreciate it if we could make a minor detour. I'm sure that I didn't pay _nearly_ enough, but hey, you can leave me in Aparo if it makes up for it. And I _did_ get your water."

"We're going," Mal declares. "We've got to take Rhai home anyway."

"Normally, you just leave stowaways on the docks," Gunny points out.

"And normally, I'm not leaving a defenseless girl in a town vying for a scapegoat."

She glances briefly at Alice, but all Gunny actually says is, "Fine. But she better stay out of the way."

As Gunny heads back below deck, Mal turns to Rhai. "Y'hear?

Rhai looks down at her feet, almost abashed. However, her gaze is averted for only a moment before it returns to Mal. "Can I go explore?"

Mal sighs. "Stay out of the way, and _don't touch anything_."

"Yeah, yeah," Rhai says. She gives the two adults remaining on the deck a small wave, and then disappears in the same direction as Gunny.

"I really hope I don't regret that," Mal declares.

Alive gives him a sly grin. "What, don't think you could find her again?"

"No, no, it's not that." Mal explains what was hiding under Rhai's bandage, and _her_ explanation of where it came from. "I'm still not sure I buy it, but I will say the coloring lends some credibility to it. I've never seen anything like that before."

"Hmm," Alice says frowning. "I wonder what it's supposed to do... and why the blacksails were so intent on it."

"Who knows?" Mal asks. Based on his tone, he doesn't sound terribly concerned, and Alice can't read him well enough to know if it's a front. However, when he gives her a sidelong glance, she knows that blacksails are the last thing on his mind tonight. "So, I don't think I'll be able to get you any goldenfish tonight... but could I interest you in some wine?"

"Buying me off with liquor, I see," Alice says, grinning.

Mal shrugs. "If it works..."

She elbows him, and he grins back. "I'll just be a moment," he says, and heads off for his cabin. Alice turns her attention back to the dark expanse of Tuanaki. The twilight shadows have lengthened considerably since she arrived back at the ship with the water, and she can't say she blames Mal for choosing to delay their excursion til morning. However, she's never been terribly fond of waiting, and the fact that this could be the last time she has to doesn't make it any better.

Alice turns her attention back to the ocean. She approaches the rail and leans her forearms on it, admiring what view she has there. Tonight, the stars are clear and bright, and the ocean is even picking up a few spots of luminescence. It's not quite as interesting as a twinkling city, but it's enough to occupy Alice's mind when she's already had a rather exhausting day.

Meanwhile, Mal climbs onto the deck too quietly to draw Alice's attention. Thanks to the lantern he carries in one hand, he can see more than just a vague impression of her in the faint starlight. She's leaning on the railing and staring out into the dark depths of the ocean. The wind insistently tugs at her messy bun, which is threatening to break free at any moment. She stands far too stiffly to belong in the air, but she looks relaxed. Noticing the lantern light, Alice glances over her shoulder, and suddenly the picture is complete, all thanks to her smirk. "Enjoying the view?" she asks from the corner of her mouth as she turns back to the ocean.

"Hard to tell," he says, closing the distance between them in a few strides. "You're taking up an awful lot of it."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Hardly. But you can't expect me to judge _that_ view when I've got this one to distract me."

Alice flushes under his attention, and Mal finds himself torn. On the one hand, he'd sleep with this woman given half a chance. On the other, she looks so small and uncertain he can feel every one of the years between them. So he sets the lantern down on the deck between them and then passes her one of two bottles he's had stashed under his arm. Once they get the bottles open, Alice raises hers and they share a wordless toast. After a few minutes of silence, Alice says, "Thanks for sharing your stash with me."

"Anything for a pretty woman," Mal says.

"Better not waste it on me, then. I'm sure you've got far better prospects back on the belt islands."

"But they're there, and you're here."

Smiling, Alice shakes her head. "Oh, Mal. We're liable never to see each other again after tonight. I'd love to make a go of it, but I don't think it's gonna work."

"Hang on," Mal says. "Are using the last night on earth speech to turn me _down_?"

"Since when is it our last night on earth?"

"Well, maybe it's not mine," he admits. "But you're about to go sequester yourself on a distant outpost of an island. So I figured you might like a last taste of civilization."

"And you're supposed to be civilized?"

"I have my moments."

"Ah. So you expect me to sleep with a man I've only known a week."

Mal grins. "Only if you want to."

"How courteous. No."

He's clearly disappointed, but he shrugs it off. "Ah, well. Worth a shot. Anyway, will you at least keep me company?"

"It's not like I've got anywhere else to be," she says. "And _you're_ the one who left, you know."

"Ah, yes. But I thought the wine was making up for that."

She grins. "It's helping, certainly. But... Can I be frank?"

"You're waiting to ask that question _now_?"

Alice elbows him. "Hey! I just wanted to confide an irrational fear."

"That's not being frank," Mal points out. He continues even as Alice rolls her eyes. "That's being irrational."

"Fine then, never mind," she says. She turns away, and takes another drink. Mal starts to feel like he overstepped, but before he can say anything, Alice speaks again. "Thank you for staying the extra night."

"Sure. I'd rather leave at dawn anyway. I like to be able to see what I'm doing when I leave a strange port."

"Fair," Alice says, and they lapse into silence again. It's not uncomfortable, but they're both trying to come up with things to fill the space. All that Alice can think of is stupid, shallow questions, and she can't bring herself to ask them. Too much is going to change tomorrow, and she doesn't know how knowing Mal's favorite color is going to help her with that.

Finally, Mal breaks the silence. "I don't know what you're thinking, but you look pretty concerned. If you're having second thoughts..."

Alice shakes her head vehemently. "No. I've worked too hard..." She gives Mal a little smile. "If this all goes south and I have to hang out on this island for six months until the next supply ship comes in, I'll do it. I'm flattered you care, but I can take care of myself."

"Well, then. If you don't want to talk about it—"

"It's not that I don't want to talk about it," she interrupts. "It's that there's nothing to say. I've been planning this moment for four years — and thinking about it longer. I get it. I know what I'm going to say. It's the waiting that's killing me."

"Fortunately, that's what the wine is for," Mal says, and Alice grins. She takes a swig from her bottle, and slowly but surely it does its job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, leave kudos or a comment for me! See you Monday with the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, to make up for Friday's being a bit long :) One last chapter before the moment we've all been waiting for!

Not long after dawn, the din becomes loud enough to wake Alice from a fitful sleep. She’s not a huge fan of sleeping in hammocks, so what rest she can grasp is precious. Only as she fully returns to consciousness does she realize that the noise she is hearing is louder than anything she has heard inside the _Nameless_ before — and it’s clearly the sound of numerous raised voices.

With a hangover threatening, Alice begrudgingly wills herself out of the hammock and up onto the deck. The sun has risen enough to give a clear picture of the town, including the landmarks she noticed yesterday: the hectic general store, the church with its bells, the town hall with the clocktower.

The clocktower is engulfed in flames.

Alice takes a few steps forward in pure shock. Mal and Gunny are already at the rail, surveying the scene. Once Alice joins them, she can see a mob of people massing in the center of town. “What… what happened? And where’s Rhai?”

Gunny and Mal trade a look that Alice would find suspicious if she were paying attention to it. However, she’s focused on the flames for the moment.

“We couldn’t find her this morning,” Mal admits. It’s enough for Alice to tear her attention away from the town and back to him. “She probably snuck back off and went home.”

“And you’re _sure_ she’s not on the ship? She did stow away before.”

“She’s not on the ship,” Gunny says firmly, in a tone that brooks no argument. Certainly Alice isn’t willing to test it.

“Fine, then. Don’t you think we should make sure she’s alright? And who knows how that fire started? She could have been hurt in it.” Mal just tuts at this suggestion, so Alice asks, “What?”

Mal glances at his first mate, and then back to Alice, and then sighs. “We were trying to determine whether she had started it. Why are you so protective over her, anyway?”

“’Cause I know what it’s like to be a girl on your own,” Alice snaps back. “And _I_ sure didn’t think she was older than twelve. I have a sister that age, so forgive me for being a little overly protective. Anyway, are we going to see Fahrn now?”

“Are you _sure_ you want to do that?”

Alice gives Mal a long, hard stare. “I’ve spent the last four years working towards this day. I think I’m pretty damn sure that I want to do it, yeah. And look at this way: I’ll be off your hands even sooner than Aparo.”

“Cap’n?” Gunny calls, and both Alice and Mal look back towards the town. The mob has begun to move, and it’s slowly climbing uphill, towards the volcano and roughly along the track that Rhai pointed out yesterday as her way home. “You think the caves are up that way?”

“Oh, most certainly,” Mal says. Then they all fall silent as they notice that the mob has changed from indiscriminate shouting to regular, repeated chanting. The wind isn’t helping matters, and they have to work to pick out clear words. What they eventually hear sends a chill down their spines: _Burn the elf!_

“Oh, come on,” Alice complains. “At least you should feel some obligation to tell Fahrn about _that.”_ Sure enough, Mal and Gunny trade an eloquent look. Then, they hurry to opposite ends of the ship, Mal to the wheel and Gunny hauling the mooring line up from the platform.

Finally, Gunny turns around with an armful of rope. “We’re free!” she shouts. Mal turns to Alice, who is still standing at the rail, looking out at the mob.

“You might want to hold on,” he tells her calmly, and then throws forward a brass lever that Alice hasn’t noticed before. There are three possible settings, and she notices that in the new setting, a glowing red light comes from within the casing.

A shudder wracks the _Nameless_ as Den gets the boiler working at its maximum. As it’s ramping up, a stiff breeze pulls them quickly away from the makeshift dock. In no time at all, they’re flying swiftly over the island, making their way in the direction that Rhai indicated the night before. They fly over the town, and then the mobbing crowd, and towards the tall, dark ridge of the mountain. At this speed, the wind quickly becomes the only thing Alice notices. It’s loud and biting, and of course she lacks goggles of her own. Slowly, she’s beginning to understand why every sailor she’s ever met constantly has a pair around their neck.

However, the speed at which they’re going also makes it difficult to cross the deck. When Mal told her, she had grabbed the rail securely, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to fight against the wind and make it to the ladder without incident. Alice drops below quickly.

It feels like wrapping her head in cotton. There’s no sign of their speed except the a gentle rocking and the faintest whistle as the wind whips past the wooden hull. For a moment, it gives their speed a kind of unrealness, like none of it’s happening, and this is just another time she’s _dreamed_ how it will go when she meets her father.

 _But what kind of dream involves an angry mob going to kill him?_ she wonders, and it pops her back into reality. She’s spent too long thinking about it; now there’s nothing left to do but get herself together. First Alice wraps her scarf tight around her neck, then she decides to collect the rest of her things as well. Expecting not to come back, she’s careful to take detailed inventory of her things so she knows she has it all.

The most valuable things she checks off the list first. Her set of advanced picks is stowed deep in her pack, while the basics are, as always, in an inner pocket of her jacket. Given the state they’d last seen the locals in, Alice wears her pistol rather than packing it. Next comes her purse, or it would if she had any money to her name. The bulkiest parts of her belongings are easily the climbing ropes and hooks she’s used to enter premises where she otherwise wouldn’t be welcome — normally, those are things she would have left with Benny rather than carting them all over kingdom come, but Alice had a feeling, when she prepared to leave Huana, that she wouldn’t be back for a long time.

The next portion of her things is primarily spare clothing: another shirt, three extra stockings, and a pair of dark leather gloves. Going through that collection now, she can tell that any dreams she had of belonging on an airship really were nothing but dreams: her warmest article of clothing is a scarf that doesn’t do much against the biting wind on deck, and she doesn’t have even a single pair of goggles. The only reason Alice has a vaguely appropriate jacket is because her mother had held onto one of her father’s, and she managed to rescue it from Piers’ attempts to purge all record of Fahrn from Alice’s life.

Other than that, the only thing she has of any real value is the photo of part of her parent’s classmates, and its worth is mostly sentimental. Still, Alice reaches into her pocket and pulls out the torn paper. For hardly the first time, she traces the sepia faces, wondering what these people were like and whether they knew her father. This time, though, she’s starting to wonder if she maybe should have asked them different questions that just, _Do you know where I can find my father?_

While Alice has spent many an hour daydreaming about finding her father, she realizes now that she hasn’t spent nearly enough time thinking about how that will go. _What am I going to say to him?_ she wonders. _Will he even believe me, if I tell him I’m his daughter? What if we look nothing alike?_

There’s a tiny, niggling voice at the back of her mind that asks, _What if this Fahrn isn’t your father?_ but she promptly pushes it aside. She’s never gotten nearly this close to him in the past, and even if this turns out to be a near miss — or, perhaps even more frustrating, if it’s another decoy like Hedgewick — she’s willing to count that as a success of its own. Certainly, Alice is used to dealing with these kinds of obstacles in this quest of hers, and she’s willing to face those challenges as they come.

The even more terrifying realization is the one that, in as much as an hour, she could _know_. There’s a distinct possibility that this is the last morning she wakes up without her father in her life. Her long years of searching may finally be complete, and for all she knows, she could have a new home on an island where Piers would _never_ think to look for her.

There’s a small thud as someone drops down into the hold and Alice looks up from the corner she claimed for her hammock. It’s Gunny, which means Mal must still be at the helm. “You ready?” Gunny asks. “We should be arriving shortly.”

Alice is surprised at the time they’ve made, but then, it wouldn’t be the first time she got lost in her own thoughts. She strings the long strap of her pack across her body, the familiar weight now settled on her back remarkably comforting. “Yes,” she says, more than happy to stand on the deck as the _Nameless_ sails towards her final destination. “Let’s go.”

#

The mob doesn’t get very far into the caves at all before it starts growing restless and skittish. Mayor Gavin does his best to rile them up, but they’re nearly to the point of disbanding when young Victor lets out a sudden shout — _“The end of the tunnel!”_

As one, the mob surges forward. Pitchforks and torches brandished angrily, the men spill out into a gentle, secluded valley. It’s far smaller an area than the portion of the island they have colonized, but it’s equally lush, if not more so. Some of the mob takes offense at this, and the disgruntled murmuring begins again.

But Gavin’s attention is on the airship hanging casually in the air above them. At first glance, they don’t recognize it as the innocuous vessel that recently left their dock. The ship before them has three guns pointed in their direction, and it’s hanging low enough that they can easily pick out the elven captain standing at the helm.

“Hail, people of Tuanaki!” booms a voice that sounds strangely metallic, as if it’s not properly human. It comes not from the direction of the ship, but rather the compound nestled on a flat outcropping partly down the hill. On top of the building is a large horn-shaped contraption with a number of wires coming out of it, which appears to be the source of the noise, rather than the ship.

The mob stands in stunned silence for a brief moment, and then the voice continues its tinny intonations. “You may see that my friend here is heavily armed. I have no wish to blow a hole in the mountainside, but he tells me you encroach on my territory with malicious intent. Is that true?”

Suddenly, the crowd erupts in conversations. After a moment, the murmuring gives way to a shout of “Yes!” followed by a disjointed chorus of “No!” However, the first shout is enough to cause the airship to let loose one of its cannon. Before the crowd can scatter, the cannonball digs a crater into the ground mere yards from the assembled townsfolk.

“That was your only warning,” the amplified voice says, and incites absolute panic. People flee in every direction, shaking practically everything that isn’t nailed down. A gangly young man with limbs that don’t seem quite under control upsets a stack of barrels. Two of the three rattle ominously but settle flat. The third, however, breaks free and comes rolling down the hill. In its path are a pair of young girls, twins, who hug each other and scream.

An older man dives for the pair of them, narrowly pulling them from harm’s way. However, as they escape the rolling barrel, the man is thrown headlong into a support beam for the rail on a makeshift woodshed. The structure shudders, but miraculously holds.

Meanwhile, the barrel continues its merry descent, picking up speed as it goes. By the time it hits the stone wall, it is moving at quite a clip, and everyone around is escaping as fast as possible. Yet no one is quite prepared for the enormous boom when the barrel hits the barn. Pulverized saltfish explodes all over the yard, covering the barn and a large section of the ground. After that, it takes only a few seconds until every last one of the villagers has fled, leaving those on board the _Nameless_ to meet with the compound’s inhabitants at their leisure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you Friday, when Alice _finally_ meets her father.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited we're finally here. Alice gets to meet her father - but don't worry, the story is far from over!

The _Nameless_ drops anchor not far from another airship, a personal craft just big enough for two, perhaps three in a pinch. Mal throws a rope ladder over the rail and offers a hand to Alice. She stands momentarily frozen, her hands clutching awkwardly at the straps of the pack she's slung over her shoulders.

"I guess this is it, huh?" she asks no one in particular. Mal gets a sidelong glance, and then she comes up with the courage to ask, "Could I, uh... possibly get some company?"

He frowns, slowly turning to his first mate. "Gunny?"

She sighs, caught between irritated and amused. "I have the watch," she says dryly, and Alice actually shoots her a grateful look.

"Thanks," she says, sort of to both of them.

"After you," Mal says, and so she finally climbs over the edge. By the time she makes it to the ground, an elf has emerged from one of the buildings in the small compound. Judging against a human standard, he barely looks old enough to be her father, but Alice knows aging is a different thing for elves. However, there's an undeniable family resemblance. Staring back at her out of his face are her own eyes — almost eerily-light grey-green. Alice suddenly understands why so many people have been taken aback upon seeing her own.

"Lifahrn?" Alice asks hesitantly.

"Please, just Fahrn," he says. "Lifahrn sounds so... formal."

"So you're my father, then," she says. "So I _am..._ half elf."

"Assuming you're Helene's daughter, yes," Fahrn says. "Unless, of course, you're by another man. But you're, what, hmm, twenty? Give or take? And two decades ago was when we were in school. So, yes, there's a decent chance you're our child. She _was_ pregnant when I left."

"You left when she was pregnant?" Alice asks, confused. Something about his story isn't lining up — at least, not with any of the stories _she's_ been told over the years. But the question is, which ones should she suddenly doubt? There's no good reason Fahrn would lie to her, but he wouldn't have any particular _need_ to tell her the truth, either. "What I mean is — why?"

Fahrn shrugs. "She knew I was never going to stick around. It was just an affair. I told her that from the beginning. _She's_ the one who convinced me she'd be able to take care of anything that happened because of it... and I'd believed she had, until today. I suppose you're here to tell me she's dead?"

Alice feels a tiny shiver go down her spine, because she suddenly realizes that she can't be _sure_ that's not true. "No," she says. "I just wanted to — meet you."

"Well, then, congratulations," Fahrn says, sounding incredibly unamused. "You've met your father. Now, will you leave me alone?"

Alice is silent for a moment, and at first, Fahrn takes this as a response and heads for the cabin. "Wait, I just — I don't understand."

Fahrn sighs and stops in the middle of the dirt yard between his buildings. "Alright, go on, ask whatever question's burning on your mind," he says.

"If you knew she was pregnant, didn't you — care? I mean, sure, you didn't _plan_ it, but couldn't you have stuck around? Where'd you have to _go_ , anyway?"

"To get married," Fahrn says matter-of-factly. "I'm sure you've met Rhai by now. That fire the captain spoke of earlier is just her idea of a good time. Anyway, I had already been betrothed to her mother when I went to the Institute and met Helene. And I was upfront with Helene about it from the beginning. _She_ was the one who pushed the relationship."

All of a sudden, Alice regrets coming to this remote island. The only things she's found here are questions and disappointment. "But..."

"Helene was the best girl there, too. She was the only one without a stick up her ass. All the rest were just there to find a husband, and learn to draw well enough their peers couldn't make fun of them for it. _Helene_ was there to get a skill she could market — and I've heard she's done quite a few respectable portraits since then, so it wasn't a complete waste of an education. Hell, she was the _only_ woman to graduate with a complete degree, not just a certificate, and our whole class just _loved_ her so..."

Fahrn grins to himself, clearly remembering some memory of his school days. It doesn't interrupt him for long, though.

"She could've had any man in that class — _all_ of us wanted her. Luckily for me, she had a bit of a _thing_ for elves. Which I see is _another_ thing she's passed on to you."

Alice feels her face heat up. Before she can come up with a denial that will actually sound as convincing as it is true, Mal speaks up.

"I'm just her bodyguard," he says.

"Oh? And what do you need guarding against, Miss Alice?"

He puts the same odd trill on the second syllable of her name that Piers' elven servants always did. It brings back memories she'd much rather forget, but there's no helping that. It just lets Mal answer for her again — something she finds she doesn't mind as much as she'd expect.

"Blacksails, primarily," Mal says. Unfortunately, it's the one answer that gets Fahrn to turn on Alice suddenly, a hard look in his eye.

"What did you steal from them?" he demands.

"I didn't steal nothing!" she protests. "I ain't _that_ stupid! It wasn't me, anyway. It was _Mal's_ cargo."

"Hey!" Mal protests. "I'm never going to get any shipments if I start opening them all up when I've been told not to!"

"What was the cargo?" Fahrn asks, dark and intent.

"These strange — syringes. With some kind of golden liquid inside..."

 _"Flehtkuv deredu en yis nihrs ilets,"_ he mutters. "Did they follow you here?"

"No," Mal says confidently.

"Are you sure? If they didn't follow you, could they have tracked you?"

"Calm down, will you?" Mal asks. "I think I know how to get out of sight of a few blacksails."

Fahrn curses loudly. "This isn't just about getting out of _sight,_ boy," he says. "This is about making sure that _certain_ people don't find out about things that they're not supposed to know exist. The cargo, where is it now?"

"On the ship," Mal says slowly. "Guarded by my crew."

"A large crew, I hope," Fahrn says.

"Sizable enough."

"Good. We'll need all the hands we can get. Now, for my daughter..." He turns around, roughly facing the barn and the outlying sheds, cups his hands over his mouth, and shouts, "RHAI! WE'RE GOING TO VISIT GRASAMI!"

There's no response but he doesn't seem to expect one. He's speaking to Alice and Mal again before he's finished turning back to them.

"She'll only be a minute. If you excuse me, I'll fetch some maps, and we can discuss an island on which I'd like to meet you."

"An — island?" Alice asks, confused. She's still trying to catch up to the bit where, apparently, the blacksails are bearing down on them at this very moment. "What's the rush? We just got here."

"We need to get that cargo far away from anyone before they touch it. It'll kill them."

With that sobering statement, Fahrn disappears into the cabin. The moment the door has shut behind him Alice and Mal exchange a worried look — they both know the other is thinking about their stowaway.

"Oh, hey, it's you."

Alice and Mal turn. Rhai is standing in front of the barn, having quietly appeared without their noticing. "Ah, yes. Rhai, wasn't it?" Mal asks, but he doesn't quite wait for an answer. "Has your hand stopped glowing?"

Rhai shakes her head. "Gloves," she says, showing him her hands — they are, in fact, both gloved in fine leather that, at a glance, are indistinguishable from tawny skin.

"Do you know if it's _still_ glowing?" he asks. "I mean, I presume it was when you put the glove on, but..."

Nodding, Rhai pulls off the glove. Alice tries not to gasp. Sure enough, there's a big splotch in the palm of her hand — molten gold and almost translucent in color, it makes it look like there's something _living_ under her skin.

It definitely gives Alice the creeps.

"Oh, good, Rhai, you made it," Fahrn says, noticing her. "Why don't you go and — what happened to your hand?"

"Nothing," she says quickly, stuffing her hand into her glove as fast as she can.

"Rhai," Fahrn says. His tone is firm and probably louder than it needs to be.

"It's nothing!" she exclaims. "I just — pricked myself! It'll be fine!"

"Pricked yourself on what?" Fahrn asks slowly. Alice subtly glances towards Mal and starts sliding over to him, hoping to find a point at which they can scurry back up to the _Nameless._

"A syringe," Rhai says, after a moment's hesitation.

"A syringe containing _what?"_

Rhai gulps audibly. She turns helplessly towards Mal and points in his direction. "Ask him! Not me! It was _his_ stuff!"

"Mal," Fahrn says slowly. "Does my daughter mean to tell me that she _accidentally_ pricked herself with a vial of goldenfish elixir?"

Instead of answering him, Mal turns to Alice, an odd look on his face. _"Tuanaki has the best goldenfish,"_ he recites under his breath. It takes her a moment to recall but then her eyes widen. Once they have, Mal turns back to Fahrn. "Unfortunately, if by _goldenfish elixir_ you mean the cargo the blacksails want from us, I'm going to have to tell you you're right. My crew did what they could to prevent her from getting on board, but she snuck on anyway. I can't be held responsible for what she did once there — that was all _her_ doing."

"Rhai, what have I _told_ you about digging around where you don't belong?"

"That it's fun and I should do it more?"

"That it's _dangerous!_ You're going to kill yourself one day! And that's assuming _this_ doesn't actually kill you!"

"It's just a little bit in my hand," she says. "I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like it hurts, or anything."

"Let me see," Fahrn demands. Alice, taking pity on the girl who clearly doesn't want to be hung out to dry in front of strangers, interrupts.

"If you don't mind me asking — you said you were going in for maps. Mal and I could leave, and—"

Fahrn sighs. "I'll deal with _you_ later," he tells Rhai. "Don't go _anywhere._ I mean it." Then he unrolls the maps, weighs them down on the ground with some pebbles he brought, and begins pointing out things.

These maps look like no others Alice has ever seen. For one thing, they're at such a tiny scale she doesn't see how they could possibly be helpful — Tuanaki itself is no more than a little speck, and most of the islands are too small to write their names inside. It almost seems like something that would be useful for showing the _continents_ instead, since it's certainly big enough one could be fit on there. However, the vast majority of it appears to be ocean — what _should_ be, according to all the maps Alice has ever seen, entirely empty ocean, apart from the familiar string of islands that she's always collectively called home.

Except there's a chain of fifteen new island she's never seen before.

They're not easily reachable by any of the other islands — the closest island she knows to any of them is the one she's standing on right now, and the _new_ island it's closest to seems to be marked with an even _smaller_ dot than Tuanaki itself. She's not even sure how long it will take to get to that smaller spot, but certainly more than the four days it would take to get back to Aparo. However, she's not really the one who needs the directions — that would be Mal, and he seems perfectly capable of reading this map, even if the look on his face isn't good.

"...And there's no way to shorten that, is there?" he's asking, when Alice finally manages to tune in to what they're talking about.

"Not if you want to survive, there isn't. It looks like this here would be a shortcut—" Fahrn traces a straight line between two of the new islands "—but there's terrible thermals there. You'd get flung gods know where — probably way out into the middle of the ocean where there's no one and nothing to see but the giant sea creatures that will be your doom. So you take this path instead. And yes, it's seven days — but it will get you there in one piece."

"Right," Mal says. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Which one are we trying to get to?" Alice asks. Both the men point at a large island in the rough middle of the collection of new ones. Its shape for some reason reminds her of a moth. "And what are we doing there?"

"I'm buying your cargo," Fahrn says. Mal seems a bit taken aback by this, so Alice gets the change to get in a question at him.

"And your — contact. He'll be alright with that?"

"If he's not dead, he'll have to be," Fahrn mutters. "It's the only way to keep any of you safe — to get it somewhere the blacksails can't even smell it."

"And you'll be coming with us?"

Fahrn gives her a strange look. "I'll see you there, yes, but I'm certainly not coming _with_ you," he says. "I've got to get my daughter somewhere safe and then I'll look into this cargo you have. Who made it, where it came from, where it was _going_... at least, as much as I can find out. There will be plenty more to talk about but for now let's get a move on before the blacksails have found us. I _really_ don't want them to know where we're going... and if we can get past Drop we'll be alright. They don't like to go that far north."

Alice looks down at the map, trying to read the names on the islands without making it look like she is. Unfortunately, it's a fruitless endeavor, as she is too far away to read any of the fine script. "Drop?" she asks.

Fahrn points to the tiny island she had noticed before. "The only thing between us and the Tuanakis."

Alice frowns. "I thought _this_ island was Tuanaki," she says.

To her surprise, Fahrn grins. "Yes, it is. To most people, it's the _only_ Tuanaki. And to those few of us in the know... this one here, Drop, this one is the first of the _real_ Tuanakis, the ones that most people have never even _heard_ of, much less seen. And in order to get done what needs doing, _we're_ going into the heart of them."

Alice is certainly impressed. Mal, on the other hand, is all business about it. "Now, if we're supposed to be going — what is that, five days to Drop, seven days to Headstone... plus two, two, and one — a good seventeen days just to get there, and that assuming we don't need to pull any more crazy maneuvers to get away from blacksails again. That'll be 350, 400 if you expect me to rush it."

"Fine," Fahrn says, which makes Mal frown. It's a steep price, though not exorbitant — Mal isn't looking to play tricks, but he isn't expecting tacit agreement, either. "I can only give you a hundred now, but I'll give you the rest in seventeen days — assuming you make it by then."

"You don't have to worry about that," Mal assures him, but Fahrn is busy digging through his pockets for a purse. When he finally finds it, he tosses it over to the captain.

"That's what I have right now. If I'm short, we can settle it on the other end. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to have a word with my daughter."

With that, Fahrn turns and heads off in the direction that Rhai left not too long ago. Alice and Mal turn back towards the _Nameless_ , but they don't step forward quite yet. Alice takes the opportunity to speak.

"So, um. About the sleeping arrangements."

To her surprise, Mal grins. "Finally regretting giving up your hold on the cabin?" he asks.

"No. Well, yes, but it's _your_ cabin, I can't rightly ask you to give it up. Especially when I'm not paying."

"But you want to."

"But I _am_ a bit of a spoiled brat who's used to real beds, yes," she says with a slow grin. "Actually, though, I was thinking. It's kind of a crazy thought, I know, but — hear me out. What if we — shared? I mean, I know you and Gunny take shifts on watch when we're sailing, and I don't need all _that_ much sleep, and even if I _had_ a hammock I don't sleep well in them, and sleeping on the floor is one thing for a day or two but we're gonna be traveling for _weeks_ and, well, I understand if you don't really want to, but I would appreciate it if you would at least consider it."

Mal does. And then, slowly, he grins. "If you wanted into my bed that much, why didn't you just _ask?"_

Alice elbows him roughly. "You're being crude," she says. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, or anything. Or anything wrong with sharing your bed. Not that I want to but—"

Mal's grin widens. "You're so cute when you're flustered," he says. It only serves to further deepen Alice's creeping blush. "But since you're clearly so set on sharing _my_ bed, may as well let you. I certainly won't mind. Gunny's gonna talk, though. She's going to talk a _lot_."

"Well, I suppose, if there's _really_ no escaping it..."

Mal laughs. "Oh, and there's one thing I'd like you to to do for me."

Alice feels her heart drop a little. "There is?" she asks.

"Yeah, teach me how to pick locks. I've been meaning to learn for years and you seem pretty good at it."

She eyes him sidelong, not entirely sure what to think of this request. "That's it?" she asks.

"What, were you expecting something else?" he asks. "Oh, no, you weren't _really_ expecting me to ask for sex, were you? I mean, I know I can be _crude_ , but..."

Alice shrugs uncomfortably. "Let's pretend I assumed you were better than that. I don't always operate in the nicest of circles."

"Look, Alice..."

He lets out a weary, worldly sigh, and Alice turns to properly look at him. Something about his distant, pensive expression catches her off guard, and she finds herself drawn in by the sight. Mal is tall, comfortably over six foot, and like Gunny he has the darker coloring of a native. But he's got the slim build of an elf, and of course the sharp points to the crowns of his ears are a dead giveaway.

His clothes only serve to further accentuate his appearance. The leather duster he wears is a chestnut only a shade darker than his skin, and it neatly covers a crisp white shirt and dark pants tucked into sturdy leather boots. Alice _knows_ he has a pistol strapped to his left thigh, but she doesn't see it. No, it's the goggles hanging around his neck that loudly proclaim his profession — airship captain, and a successful one, given the fine craftsmanship that went into his clothes.

 _And his leg,_ Alice thinks suddenly, though it's one of the first times she's thought about Mal's clockwork leg since he first showed it to her. It's definitely not something she's noticed during this whole adventure — and for that, she knows that it _must_ be well-made, since most gadgets, in her experience, fail under stress.

But it's not the most striking thing about Mal, the most striking thing about Mal is — well, _Mal_ , the way he's standing there clearly capable at what he does and yet still hesitant about asking her whatever question is making him frown at the ground in front of her feet instead of looking at her.

"What is it, Mal?" she asks. He looks up, sees her watching him, and smiles uncertainly. Something about his expression makes her insides feel — liquid, almost. Like they're being stirred into some kind of soup.

Mal takes a deep breath. "You know you can — leave, right? You don't _have_ to come with us."

"And, what, I stay here instead? Right, 'cause there are _so_ many options for getting off Tuanaki. Ships come by all the time."

Surprisingly, he winces. "I just mean — I don't want you to think that you _have_ to come. With us. If you don't want to."

"I don't," she says quickly. "Really. I _want_ to come with you."

"I just — _really_ — want to make sure that you're doing this because you want to. That you don't feel like you _have_ to do any of this, for some reason."

"I want to come with you," Alice says firmly. "Is that really so hard to understand?"

"Before you — share my bed. I know Gunny will ask... and either way, I don't want you to _think_ I'm expecting something of it."

Alice reaches for Mal's hand and he surprises them both a little by letting her take it. "Mal," she says quite seriously. "I know you don't expect anything of me. I am perfectly capable of platonically using the same bed as you do."

Then, suddenly, her demeanor changes, a broad grin breaking out across her face. "Plus, I got news for you. I ain't made a move yet. And believe me, you'll know when I do."

Despite himself, Mal finds a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, I will, will I?" he asks.

"Well, for one thing, I'll stop stealing your purse," she says, brandishing it with a grin. Mal yelps and makes a grab at it, but she's already leapt away, and is dashing up the slight hill to where the _Nameless_ is calmly waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what you thought of that meeting! Leave me some thoughts in a comment, and I'll see you Monday with another chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

Mal lets out a string of curses. Alice is mostly interested in them because she hasn't heard this chain before. "It won't fit," he says angrily, throwing down his tools. "It's too big."

"It will _too_ fit," she says firmly. "I know. I just tried it."

"Then why don't _you_ do it, little Miss Know-it-all?"

"Because _I'm_ not the one who needs to be taught how to pick locks," she says flippantly. "You're the one who asked for my help."

"And I expected _help_ , not 'here's five seconds on how it works now try it'!"

"It's something you gotta learn by _doing,"_ Alice says irritatedly. "That's what I was trying to tell you. You need to—"

A knock on the cabin door interrupts them. "You both clothed?" Gunny calls through it.

"Come in, Gunny!" Mal calls out. She pushes the door open, but only gets a step into the cabin before getting caught up in staring blankly at the mess on Mal's desk.

Even Alice can't entirely blame her. They'd gone through a _lot_ of locks before Alice found one that she deemed easy enough to Mal to start with — and even that one is giving him trouble. It's a simple four-pin fixture, one that took her a mere moment to pop, but Mal was having trouble understanding what to do. So Alice had offered to take apart one of the locks that was a bit more complicated, that they maybe wouldn't _need_ to put back in working order, and she'd be able to explain better. So in addition to nearly a dozen locks of varying sizes in different piles, there's also all the bits and pieces that had originally made up the locking mechanism of Mal's sextant's case.

"What's going on here?" Gunny asks.

"I'm teaching Mal to pick locks!" Alice says proudly. "I could teach you, too, if you'd like."

"What're you starting him with?"

"A four pin Chessen. Why, you got something better?"

"Actually — yes. I've still got the two pin my sergeant taught me on. Hang on, let me go get it."

"See?" Alice tells Mal. "I told you we should've let her in on it. It's not like she's going to _judge_ you for learning to pick locks."

"Oh, no, I'm never going to judge him for something like that," Gunny says, returning to the cabin with a small box under her arm. "I'm only going to judge you for _not_ telling me what you were doing, having the door closed, and talking about things that could be _easily_ construed as sexual."

Mal flushes. Alice grins. "I like you," she tells Gunny, who seems rather nonplussed by that development.

"The one flaw is that I can't get the lock out of the box. But it's easy enough to get open despite that."

Mal abandons the lock in his hands in favor of the box that Gunny hands to him. The locking mechanism on this one is much smaller, and Alice fishes around for a fine-enough pick before handing it over. Mal takes it gratefully and then gets to work.

"So, why'd you come in? Hoping to catch us in the act?" he asks.

"Actually, I just wanted to update you — we're at stable altitude, there aren't any clouds around, and Tuanaki is steadily slipping out of sight. You're _sure_ of these coordinates, right?"

"I am," Mal says, still fiddling with the locked box. "I wouldn't follow them if I weren't."

"Yes, well. _I'm_ not entirely convinced."

"And that's why you're not the captain," Mal says simply. He's still concentrating closely on the lock and then — with a soft _click!_ — he gets it open. "Ta-da!" he says proudly, brandishing the unlocked box at Gunny.

"Great!" she says. Then she presses down on the lid lightly, just enough to get the lock to engage again. "Now do it again."

Mal groans.

"Or, if you're done playing thief..."

"Hey, I'm no thief," Alice complains.

"No?" Gunny asks. "Then what are you?"

Alice opens her mouth to say something witty but she never gets a chance to, as Mal interrupts her first. "Ladies. Please refrain from fighting amongst yourselves. We have plenty of _other_ enemies to worry about at the moment."

"I haven't seen any blacksails yet," Gunny says. "Not to say there aren't any, but — _perhaps_ — they haven't followed us. Or maybe they just don't know we've left yet. Either way, we have a pretty good chance of getting to this island — what did you call it again? 'Drop'?"

"That's what Fahrn called it, yeah," Alice says.

"It's not much, but it's got fresh water," Mal says. "Which we'll need to get on with the next leg, yes, Gunny, I know our tanks are low."

"And how are you planning to get us _back_ to Tuanaki if this 'Drop' doesn't turn out the way you want it to?"

"We'll deal with that when we get there," he says. "But it's only five days there, and we have plenty of coal to pull a propeller boost."

"Fine," Gunny says. "I'm going back on deck. You can play thief for as long as you'd like but I'd appreciate a break at some point."

"I'm coming up," Mal says, quickly putting aside the re-locked box. This whole endeavor has proven far more difficult than he expected, and he'd like to go back to doing something he's already good at — like flying.

"Go ahead," Alice says. "I've got to clean all this stuff up, and see if I can do something about your sextant case."

"I'd appreciate it," Mal says. "Gunny?"

With no more prompting necessary than that, she leads the way back to the _Ship Without a Name_ 's deck.

#

Alice is still struggling with re-attaching the locking mechanism to its spot in the case when the door to the cabin open. "Mal, I've done my best, but I'm afraid it's hopeless."

"Nothing is hopeless," says a low, gruff voice Alice doesn't recognize. She looks up to see Den in the doorway, carrying what appears to be a bucket of hot coals with him.

"Oh, uh, hi, Den," she says. Her memories of their introduction are hazy at best, and she can't even remember if they've _actually_ been introduced, or if she's just heard about him a lot. He certainly isn't out and about as much as Mal or Gunny is, that's for sure. "What've you got there?"

"Coals for Mal's stove. He likes warm when we have flown all day."

Alice is surprised at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. It's certainly got to be annoying, carrying a bucket of _terribly_ hot things all the way here from the boiler room just because Mal likes it that way. _Maybe this is why I've never seen Den about,_ she thinks. _He's always running around doing little things for the_ real _crew members..._

"That's nice," she says. She's not really sure what else to say, so she watches, as Den walks over to the little stove at the back of the cabin. He reaches into the bucket and pulls out some glowing lumps of coal.

Alice gasps. He's reaching in with his _bare_ hands. "Isn't that — hot?" she asks.

"Yes," Den says, matter-of-factly.

"Doesn't it — hurt? I mean, it's gotta be _really_ hot, right? So—?"

"Dwarves are forged of fire," Den says. "It cannot hurt us."

Needless to say, Alice is incredibly impressed. She also notices that Den doesn't put the bucket down in order to pull things from it — which makes her wonder if it, too, is incredibly hot. "Do you have any other tricks?" she jokes.

Unfortunately, that seems to be a mistake. "Tricks?" Den asks.

"Uh, I mean — any other particular — abilities? Things that say, a normal human couldn't do?"

Den considers this for a moment. "I am _gölet_ ," he says.

"I'm sorry, what is _gölet_? I assume that's something in Dwarven?"

Den nods. "It means I — _make_ things? That is a word, yes?"

"Yes, that's a word," Alice says, nodding. "So then _gölet_ is, what, like a tinkerer? Say, would you be any good at putting something back together?"

"What is it?"

So Alice explains what happened to Mal's sextant case. Den comes and inspects it, careful not to let the bucket of coals touch anything. It gets close enough to Alice for her to feel the strong heat rolling off of it — as warm as the straight coals themselves.

"I can fix," Den says. "I have to take these coals. Bring it to the boiler."

"Thank you, Den!" Alice says excitedly. "I'll meet you there in just a moment. I just want to make sure I get up all the right pieces."

Den nods, and then he slips out of the cabin. True to her word, Alice scoops up the pieces that don't belong to other locks they've tried, and brings them all down to the boiler room where Den will do what he can.

#

When Alice gets back into the cabin, it's already warm. Far _too_ warm, for her tastes. So she picks one of the fairly simple locks on Mal's desk and goes digging around in his drawers until she finds a spare pair of goggles. Once she has, she puts them on, and then goes over to the wardrobe to get an idea of how they look.

Mal's mirror is small and cloudy, but it does the job well enough. Alice can tell she looks _just_ reasonable enough for her not to discard the plan entirely. The goggles are at least one size to large, but they'll have to do.

The last thing she grabs is a scarf from her ruck bag and wraps it tightly around her neck before firmly closing her jacket up over it. She decides _against_ checking this look in the mirror, since she knows it'll only look ridiculous. Her outfit complete, she scampers out of the cabin and up onto the deck.

The difference in temperature alone is enough to stop her in her tracks. It's also _unbelievably_ windy, and she suddenly understands the necessity of the goggles. No other ship she's been on has gone _this_ fast.

At least, not when passengers were allowed on the deck.

"Alice!"

She turns towards the shout. Mal is waving her over to the aft deck, where he's standing beside the wheel. He's got a spyglass in the hand he's gesturing with.

Alice does her best to move towards him. The wind is buffeting her, and she's not exactly confident about walking, so she takes the roundabout path that keeps her within arm's length of the rail. She makes sure she's got a hand in contact with it on the whole trip and eventually she finds herself only a few feet from Mal.

She takes the last steps hesitantly. Mal shouts something at her, but it gets torn away from her by the wind. "What?" she shouts back.

The next moment, Mal is up in her personal space, his hands on her shoulders and his cheek pressed against her so that his mouth is inches from her ear. "Your goggles are on upside down," he says.

Alice valiantly tries to pretend that the shiver that runs down her spine is _only_ because she's cold. That's a factor, yes, but—

"Close your eyes."

She does before she's had a chance to think about whether it's a good idea. Then, she feels Mal's hands move to pulling the goggles off her head. _What if he doesn't put them back?_ She wonders. _Or what if he leaves? If I open my eyes now, will I be able to see? I think I remember where the hatch is from here, but what if—_

Mal carefully orients the goggles over her eyes and then tugs the strap over her head, somehow managing _not_ to tangle it in all her flyaway hair. He tugs on the ties a little and then leans in again. "You can open your eyes again," he says.

She does — and suddenly she's twice aware of how close he is. She could reach her arms out and wrap them around him, and they'd only have to turn their heads a _little_ for their mouths to meet, and—

"Better?" he asks.

She swallows — or tries to, but her mouth is strangely dry. She can only get out a strained, "Much," and thankfully it's even true. She _can_ see much better now — the shape of the goggles is much better in this position. It's weird not to be able to see what's next to her, but she doesn't really want to imagine what it's like to keep her eyes open in the wind that's biting at her cheeks.

Mal grins, and then leans back and looks her over. He makes a gesture that she interprets as asking what's making her so lumpy.

"Scarf!" she shouts. He nods, and then moves for it. Alice swats his hands away and pulls it out herself — she's worried that he'll open her coat to get it, and she's chilly enough as it is. She carefully pulls it out and offers it to Mal.

After he takes it, the first thing he does is fold it in half. Then he reaches out and wrap's the folded scarf around her neck, pulling the two loose ends through the folded one. It's thicker and warmer than the way she had had it, and even though the loose ends of the scarf are slapping wildly in the wind, it feels far more secure on her neck.

Mal looks at her inquisitively. She nods vigorously, and he grins. Then he offers her the spyglass, but she refuses it. Tuanaki is now too far behind them for her to have any hope of seeing it, and they won't be in sight of their destination for days yet. She doesn't really want to stare even _closer_ at the infinite expanses of sky around them and sea a far way below them. There's a bit of a cloud formation off in the distance, but there's not even a _hint_ of land, and she doesn't need any more reminders of just how small and vulnerable she is.

Plus, she's perfectly comfortable leaning against the railing and just staring out at the horizon. It's beautiful, in a cold, clean sort of way. There's not much of anything to see, just a distant, swiftly-setting sun off the port bow. Alice leans on the high rail of the aft deck and watches it set, enjoying feeling both _alone_ and _safe_ at the same time. It's not a combination she gets to enjoy very often, since the few places she'd really consider _safe_ are all someone else's, and they don't often let her be _alone_ there. But here, on _The_ _Ship Without A Name,_ the wind that's buffeting her and running her cheeks raw also gives her a bubble of protection against being touched or spoken to. For a moment, if only just a moment, Alice can pretend that the last four years turned out very differently — that she had convinced Piers that, instead of training to be a proper young lady, she should be trained to _sail_ instead, that she had graduated with flying colors, that the ship keeping her aloft was _hers_ and it was aloft at _her_ direction and she was leading an exploration expedition, that she would be the first person to discover—

A hand on Alice's shoulder startles her from her reverie. She turns to see a dark figure standing over her — in the time she's been staring out at the horizon, the sun has set, and the stars have come out. There's no light on the deck, but there's a lantern hung on the ladder that leads below, and it provides a small bit of illumination. That's just enough for Alice to feel confident that it is, in fact, Mal, and not someone else.

When he leads in behind her and whispers in her ear, she's certain of it — she's far too numb to get away with telling herself _this_ shiver is from the chill. "Let's go below," he says.

She nods, then turns and lets him lead the way out of the wind. As surprised as Alice was when she stepped _into_ the wind, its sudden absence is equally notable. _Really_ what's noticeable is the way that all of the exposed bits of skin are screaming out in irritation. Still, as she tenderly pulls off her goggles, she's not even beginning to regret the time up there.

Mal is standing in front of the cabin door, waiting for her. "Come on. I don't want to leave the door open too long, we'll let all the heat out and Gunny'll get mad."

Then, Alice remembers what's waiting for them — a nice _warm_ cabin. She grins at Mal, and gestures for him to open the door. She scurries inside and is instantly engulfed in a _very_ welcoming warmth.

"Ooo, this feels so nice," she says.

"Den's a real help," Mal says. He rummages around in the things on his desk, clearly looking for something. Alice, meanwhile, heads for the bed. The one part of her body that would _really_ appreciate being directly exposed to this heat is her toes, which she hasn't been able to feel for hours. Unfortunately, there are quite a few buckles and straps even to get down to her socks, so she may as well sit down while she's doing it.

She's gotten her boots off and is just getting her first stretches in when Mal tosses something her way. "Heads up."

A small jar lands in her lap. "What's this?" she asks.

"Just a salve for your cheeks," he says. "It'll help with the stinging a bit now. And if you go up tomorrow you should put some on before you go out, it's better when you use it _before_ you're all chapped."

"You didn't put any on earlier," Alice observes.

"I'm used to it," Mal says. "And my skin is, too — tough, weathered, old-man's hide."

Alice grins a little. "Well, you _are_ pretty old," she teases.

"Hey! I take offense at that," Mal says.

"Only because it's true," Alice says. Then she turns to the jar in her lap. The lid twists off easily enough, and then there's some kind of goop inside. It smells rather strongly of something that makes her head spin a little. But, sure enough, when she rubs it on her cheeks the stinging immediately lessens. It's not entirely gone, but it's certainly far less noticeable.

"Thank you for cleaning up all the stuff from earlier, by the way," Mal says. Alice looks over at him — he's clearing the rest of the things off his desk, which is rather unusual.

"Well, we _did_ make a bit of a mess," Alice admits. What she's _not_ ready to admit is the fact that she didn't actually take care of everything the way she had meant to. "What are you doing?"

"Clearing off a space so I can sleep at my desk," he says.

"We talked about this," Alice says firmly. "It's _your_ bed. I know we're sharing it, but—"

Mal raises his eyebrows at Alice. "Are you suggesting we do now?"

Alice sighs. "No, I'm telling you, if one of us is sleeping at your desk, it'd be me. _You_ sleep in _your_ bed. Plus, I'm not tired yet."

"Are you sure?" Mal asks.

"I'm certainly not going to sleep yet," she says, even as she's fighting off a yawn. "Just go sleep, Mal. If it's Gunny's watch now you know there's only a few hours til yours."

Muttering, he gets to his feet. "Yeah, yeah," he says. Then, they finish switching places — Alice settles into his chair and Mal settles on the bed, removing his boots. It takes her a moment to find a comfortable position, but the chair definitely makes a better bed than some she's had.

"Hey, Alice."

She glances over. Mal is curled up in the bunk — it looks a size too small for him, with all his gangly limbs, but his expression is certainly relaxed and content.

"Share the bed with me?"

"Not tonight."

Mal grins. "That implies _tomorrow_ night."

"Maybe."

"Well," he says, rolling over in his bunk. "Do think about it. I'd love to know your answer."

And then Alice is in a warm, quiet room, with nothing to do to fill her time but think. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter coming soon :)


	11. Chapter 11

Mal wakes after only a few hours' rest. It's reflexive, at this point; he's so used to his watch schedule with Gunny that even if it _had_ massively changed for some reason, he has a feeling he'd still be unable to get more than a few hours' rest at a time. And then, of course, there are the days when he _never_ gets any sleep, so at least this hasn't been one of those. In fact, it's been a better rest than any he's had in a while — he slept deeper, for all he's awake now.

The real problem is that _awake now_ means _preparing to go on watch_ or just wasting time, and if he's slept like he normally does, there isn't _much_ time to procrastinate. Only just enough that he'll be ready before he heads up into the bracing night air, and no more.

With a sigh, he wrenches his eyes open — and immediately reaches for his gun. But as he blinks the image becomes clearer — it's just Alice, asleep in his chair.

The very same chair that he'd given up because she'd _insisted_ she wasn't tired and she had lots of things to think about. He smiles to himself a little, wondering how long she lasted before falling asleep.

Then he hauls himself out of bed, pulls on his boots and _very_ quietly makes his way over to the desk. In a smooth, swift motion, he gets his arms up under her and picks her up bridal style. He carefully settles her down on the bunk, and then, quietly as he can, opens one of the under-bunk storage drawers. From the drawer he pulls a blanket — not terribly heavy, but good enough she'll stay warm even though the pleasant heat from his little stove is dissipating.

He carefully spreads the blanket over her, and he'd've thought he'd totally succeeded at his sneaky bait-and-switch maneuver if she didn't curl into the blanket the moment it's been spread over her.

The fact that she speaks doesn't help with his feeling of accomplishment much either.

"Goodnight, Mal," she says. "Have a good watch."

Then she rolls into a tighter ball and pulls the covers up almost over her nose. Mal grins. "Goodnight, Alice," he says. "Sleep well."

#

He trades off with Gunny for what turns out to be an incredibly boring watch. Not that he expected much better, when he was going into it — honestly, he expected to be tired enough that he fell asleep on the wheel, but he's actually surprisingly energized for once.

He's just _terribly_ bored. They're too far from Tuanaki to see land, even if you _could_ see anything but stars at night. At least they're high enough up that the sea distantly beneath them isn't easily visible — there's just the ever-present whoosh of wind, and the stars, and the cooling night, and _eventually_ the slowly-lightening sky. But oh, how the hours crawl after sending Gunny down to get some sleep.

Finally, he heads back inside to get some feeling back into his hands — maybe he'll ask Den to make a soup, he's always good at those. Mal gets tired of mushrooms — who wouldn't? — but anything warm and liquid that he could pour inside himself right now would be _lovely_ , something to warm him from the inside out and not just the outside in.

However, he's barely landed in the upper hold when he hears Gunny's distant shout. He freezes, both trying to listen better and hoping that if he waits long enough she won't actually _really_ seriously need him.

Gunny shouts again, and with a heavy sigh, he briskly rubs his hands together in a feeble attempt to get some warmth into them. After fitting his goggles back into place, he heads back up the ladder.

He finds her with a spyglass trained on a spot to their distant aft. As he approaches her she shouts again, without turning. Even if the shout weren't loud enough to rattle his boots, it would still startle him. _Three_ times calling for him, and not even looking around to see if he's shown up since then? Clearly it's something important.

Rather than trying to shout over the sound of omnipresent wind, Mal simply reaches out and puts a hand on Gunny's shoulder. Similarly, she doesn't bother with words — just hands him the spyglass and points to the distant horizon.

Where there's a smudge that looks just a little bit _too_ well-definedto be a mirage. If it's not land, which would be unlikely because of the route they took, then there's pretty much only one thing it could be.

He still puts the spyglass to his eye before cursing. But the cursing still comes, because of what he sees distantly.

Blacksails.

#

Alice wakes up in the morning slowly. She's warm and cozy, which isn't the worst thing in the world. And, no, the bed she's sleeping in isn't hers and nor is the ship beneath her. She can be honest and admit that to herself. But that doesn't stop her from imagining what it would be like if they _were._

And maybe if they were _Mal's,_ too, even at the same time. She'd be alright with that. She's certainly enjoying the fact that she and Mal are sharing a bed — even as indirectly as it is. It's not the worst thing in the world, perhaps, but she can certainly imagine a better arrangement of things. One in which there are no _turns_ with the bed, only her and Mal all curled up in one another, sleeping the deep sleep that you can only get when you're around someone who you can trust to watch your back.

With a sudden shock, Alice realizes that's how she _has_ been sleeping. That all this time she's bed sleeping in Mal's bed as comfortable as if it's her own, and it isn't. It's a startling thought — and one she's not really sure how to address. Suffice to say, lying around in bed all day will only serve to drive her thoughts down a path she's not sure she's ready for.

Not that she there would be anything _wrong_ with going down that path. Just that they haven't, yet, and so it's too strange to address it, when she's not even sure how she feels.

 _You know what, maybe I'll just say something,_ she tells herself. _Surely that can't_ hurt _anything now. And if I'm being honest with myself—_

 _If you're being honest with yourself, Alice,_ she thinks angrily, berating herself for her stupidity. _You'd realize you're already head over heels and may as well_ do _something about it, god dammit._

So Alice is in the middle of thinking when Mal angrily bursts through the door of the cabin. She looks up, for a moment still wrapped up the oh-god-I've-been-sleeping-in-his-bed part of the moment that she misses his expression.

But then the murderous rage burning behind his eyes becomes more apparent, and she almost cringes. She doesn't know what to say, or even do.

Mal barely notices her, anyway. He heads straight for his chest and then goes digging around in it, angrily tossing things aside that aren't whatever it is that he's looking for. Alice carefully gets out of bed and goes over to him.

"What are you looking for?" she asks. "Maybe I can help."

"No, I know exactly where they are," Mal says. "They're just — under—"

With that, he pulls out two swords wrapped in sheathes whose belts are tied around them.

"Swords? Really?" Alice asks incredulously. "I mean, sure, you can be all stereotypical airship pirate and everything, but _swords?_ What good are _swords_ against anyone reasonable? And how's anyone close enough to be a problem?"

Mal sighs. "Yes, swords," he says. "You should put your boots back on and grab your pistol and come up to the deck."

"Um..."

"Or you can wait until the blacksails've boarded us to decide to start fighting."

This certainly has the intended effect of getting Alice's butt in gear. However, she can't quite move fast enough to get herself out the door before Mal does — so she doesn't have a chance to ask him any more questions. Instead, all she can do is scramble into appropriate gear for the weather and then clamber up the ladder onto the deck.

Mal and Gunny are standing at the back of the deck, trading the spyglass between them and looking at a point out in the distance. It's still pretty windy up here and Alice has a feeling that the reason Mal and Gunny appear to have a whole silent language of communication between them is because they actually _do_ have such a language — they need to, in order to navigate situations like these on a daily basis. Something about that realization makes Alice feel a little less — what, she's not sure, exactly, because she'd never want to admit that she was _jealous_ of Gunny. Of all the _stupid_ things...

Mal looks over his shoulder and notices Alice standing there at the top of the ladder looking a bit lost and so he waves her over using gestures as exaggerated as he can manage. The good news is this means that Alice spots him quickly, and before you know it he's handing the spyglass over to her so she can see what they're all hung up on.

Alice takes the spyglass and holds it up to her eye, doing her best to follow the line of Mal's finger off into the distance. It takes her a second to know what she's looking for but when she sees it, she instantly recognizes it. They've _very_ far away — too far for her to see anything more than the distinctive black sails that make the distant ship easy to name, even for her.

She turns to Mal, cups a hand around her mouth, and then says, only a _bit_ loudly, "What are they doing out here?"

"Patrols, maybe. Hopefully they haven't seen us and we can sneak away."

"How?"

Mal glances to Gunny, and Alice follows his look. She already has one of the two swords strapped to her hip. Something about its presence makes Alice feel this is far more ominous than she is really able to understand.

"Shout if you need us," Mal says, or something like that; Alice isn't entirely sure. Either way, he heads for the access hatch that leads them back below deck and Alice is only a step behind him. When they get onto the deck of the upper hold, Mal heads straight for the boiler room.

"Den," he calls as they enter. "Den, I need your help!"

A few moments later Den appears from somewhere. All Alice can say is one moment he's nowhere to be seen, and the next he's standing right in front of them. She'd suspect some kind of witchcraft, except that she has a good feeling that that wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen on this trip.

"What is it?" Den asks stiffly.

"Can you do quarter speed on the propellers?"

Den frowns. "That is — half of half, yes?"

"Yes, that's what a quarter is," Mal says. He sounds far less exasperated with the question than Alice would be. "Can you do it?"

Den frowns. "Why?" he asks.

So Mal explains — the distant blacksail is probably just a patrol. They need to slip out of sight, but not at _such_ a clip that the patrol will instantly lock in on them as an interesting target. After all, up till now, there's no guarantee that they have even spotted them.

"So, if we can get out of range without them noticing us..."

"I will try," Den says. "Half of half is — not easy. But I will try."

"Thank you, Den," Mal says. Then he and Alice exit the boiler room. But before Mal can cross back across Alice's path, she stops him.

"Mal, wait," she says. He turns to look down at her — she's got a hold of his arm, perhaps a little tighter than she really needsto. Especially when both of them know that even with her strongest grip, he could still rip his arm out of her hands with ease.

"What is it?" he asks. "Let's be quick, I want to know if anything's changed up there."

"I just have one question."

"And it is?"

 _If you're so anxious to be back up, then why did you lead us both back down here?_ "Why the swords?"

Mal grins. "Alright, that _does_ deserve some explanation. So, the blacksails. You've heard they have automata."

"In the stories," Alice says. Mal just rolls his eyes.

"One of these days you're going to have to give up the ghost and admit the fact that you're not just walking around in the world that you always knew, with the nice easy boundaries of _real_ and _fake_. The real world is a fair bit stranger than that, my dear."

"Believe me, I'm starting to figure that out," she says. "But — the automata. Go on."

"Right. Blacksail ships, crewed by clockwork automata."

"They're clockwork?" Alice asks, impressed. "I didn't realize they could — well, that they were made of clockwork. I mean, obviously they had to be made of _something_ , but—"

"Yes, clockwork. And _well-armored_ clockwork. Designed to withstand gunfire, even though by all rights that should be the easiest way to put those buggers to rest. Just blow 'em full of holes and the gears will never turn and they won't get anywhere."

Alice nods. It certainly sounds reasonable enough. Well, if she gets over the bit where there are clockwork men sailing a blacksail ship towards them.

"Unfortunately, whatever savage mind it was that originally came up with these things was _also_ aware of that flaw in the design of building clockwork creatures. So he protected them _very_ well against that — so well that guns may as well be useless against them."

Alice gulps. "So, what can we do? Is there anything that—"

Mal grins. "And _that_ is where the swords come in," he says.

Alice raises her eyebrows incredulously. "Swords. Swords are more effective than _guns_ at taking care of these — blacksail automata."

"More or less, yea," Mal says. "I mean, if you were a good enough shot..." He shrugs. "The only place the automata are really _not_ armored is around their necks. They're a bit too narrow, and a bit too many important pieces needed to get shoved in the space that connects the head and the chest. So they're not quite as well armored there. And, if you can manage to behead them, it's one of the few body parts they have that _can't_ just be swapped with a new one."

While the thought of swapping out broken body parts is a little disturbing to Alice, she can't deny how that would have a certain advantage. Especially in an armory made of up of people who don't care at all about what they look like and whether they can keep going for ever and ever is a more important thing anyway.

"If the blacksails board us, how screwed are we?" Alice asks.

"Well," Mal begins. "Have you ever held a sword?"

"No," she admits.

"And how good of a shot with that pistol are you?"

She shrugs. "Fair," she says.

"Yep, we're screwed. We're outnumbered ten to one."

Alice's stomach does a funny little flip but she doesn't have long tothink about it before Mal heads back up to the main deck. With a sigh, she follows him, knowing that sitting around here will only make her more anxious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! There's plenty more adventure still to come, don't worry. New chapter coming Monday!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a fun one, nothing too serious, but it happens to have some fun parts. Enjoy!!

In spite of Mal's dire predictions, the distant blacksail ship turns out to be more of an annoyance than a threat. Over the course of the day it slips in and out of sight, though Mal does his best to keep _The Ship Without A Name_ flying at optimal speeds.

Somewhere in the mid afternoon, Gunny gives up on their urgent watch of the distant stern horizon. Mal doesn't stop checking every few minutes, at least for as long as Alice is willing to stay on the deck to watch. It's as windy as the day before, so it's not exactly easy to have a conversation. Unfortunately, this leaves Alice with little to occupy her time. Maybe if she goes back down to the cabin she can go back to digging around in Mal's things in search of something to read. Not that there's any guarantee she'll find anything interesting, of course, but she's bound to find _something._ Maybe, if she's lucky, something boring enough she'll be put to sleep. There's certainly not anything _useful_ she can do on the ship, and it kind of irritates her. She knows she'll regret it if she _asks_ for something to do.

When Alice gets down to the lower deck, she hears what she slowly recognizes as a muffled fiddle. She follows the sound to the cabin door, which she pushes open.

Inside, she finds Gunny with her back to the door, elegantly sawing away on a fiddle. Alice stands still watching her, quietly impressed.

When Gunny concludes her piece, Alice applauds. It certainly does the job of getting Gunny's attention.

"Oh! Alice!" she says, sounding startled. She looks around the room, as if confirming she _is_ in fact in the cabin. "I'm sorry, I forgot this was — I forgot you where staying in here," she says. It sounds sheepish, almost embarrassed, though she certainly isn't blushing as violently as Alice would be in the same situation. In fact, Alice herself is feeling a bit embarrassed. And foolish, for not making her presence known earlier.

"Your playing is lovely," Alice says. "It's been a long time since I've heard any good music. Thank you for playing."

Gunny shrugs. "I have the thing," she says, gesturing with the instrument a little self-consciously. "I may as well use it. But I'll go back to the hold, I don't want to—"

"No, no, please stay," Alice says. "I mean, unless you don't want the audience. I was just gonna be going through Mal's things."

Gunny raises her eyebrows, not sure whether to take Alice seriously. "I don't mind the audience," she says. "As long as you don't mind the worse bits of my playing."

Alice grins. "Anything to pass the time. Do you know _Lament for a Sailor's Wife_?"

#

Gunny is on watch and Alice is up on the deck of the ship when they see their first indication of land. It's far off in the distance, and even though she has Gunny point it out to her, Alice has trouble recognizing the distant discoloration of the horizon as something they might actually want to investigate. However, having their destination in sight is certainly exciting, and it very slowly becomes more so as they approach the makeshift airship dock erected on an island that barely looks more substantial than a sandbar.

Thankfully, they reduce their speed significantly for the docking procedure. Alice gets to stand next to Mal _without_ her goggles on and she can even talk to him in a reasonable voice and expect him to hear her — and her to hear his answers.

"This is such a _tiny_ island," Alice says, even though it's not a very insightful comment. She just can't help looking at it and wondering if they maybe went the wrong way.

"We're still pretty high," Mal says. "But it's not large, no. All we need is fresh water, though. And we've been promised there's plenty."

"Ooo, do you think there are pools? I would _love_ a soak."

"Well, I don't know if there _are_ any, but if you find one, can I watch?"

Alice elbows him. "You're being crude," she says.

"And _you're_ trying not to laugh," he says, grinning. "I can see it, so don't try to deny it. I know you like it."

She rolls her eyes, but Mal is too caught up in docking the ship to notice. Gunny hops over the railing with a rope over her shoulder and onto the dock they've approached. She disappears out of sight for a moment, and then briefly reappears.

"We're tied!" she shouts. "I'm going to get the hose."

"Aye," Mal calls back, and Alice glances over at him.

"What hose?" she asks. He points towards the complicated structure that their hanging dock is anchored to. Alice looks a little closer, and she sees that it's more than just a tall wooden scaffold — there's some kind of pipe protected in the center. On closer inspection, it even has round metal hatches of varying sizes.

Then Gunny comes into view, tugging a heavy canvas pipe. She lines it up with one of the hatches, locking it in place. "We're on!" she calls back towards the _Nameless_. "I'm going to explore!"

"I'll go tell Den," Mal says, and then disappears below deck. Alice looks out over the sandy little island. There isn't much to see, just a scattering of palm trees, some sandy beaches, and a few inviting pools. Clearly the latter are what Gunny intend to investigate.

Mal returns with a bag slung over his shoulder. "Ready to take a look around?" he asks.

"Yeah," Alice says, then nods towards his bag. "What's that for?"

"Just in case we do find a pool or two. I figured it was better to be prepared."

Alice grins. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Mal gestures towards the dock. "Ladies first," he says.

Alice looks at the platform of the dock, which is a good ten feet below the level of the deck, and a good thirty feet above the sand. "I'm not exactly sure how—"

Mal sighs, and then passes in front of her to go through an obvious cut in the railing. "There's netting here that you can use as a ladder," he explains. A moment later, he drops out of sight, and then Alice hears his weight settle on the dock. "It's not far at all, and I'll be here to catch you if you fall."

Trying not to think about how much she might enjoy that, Alice carefully picks her way down side of the ship. Fortunately she doesn't fall, and the pair of them easily find their way down to the dirt of the island.

Alice decides it feels distinctly odd, standing on a bit of land that she can tell isn't moving. She doesn't mind the stillness — likes it, even — but there's a moment there, with her feet firmly planted in the soil of an island she didn't know _existed_ five days ago, that is nothing less than everything she ever wanted.

And, sure, it never would have happened if she hadn't embarked on her quest to find her father. After all, who gave them directions? But she can't help thinking that the whole quest was a detour, a distraction, when there were other things she really should have been looking for.

"You coming?" Mal asks. He looks back at her with a frown until she grins back at him.

"Of course! Gunny's gotta be around here somewhere, right?"

#

It doesn't take long for them to find Gunny camped out protectively next to the pools, which are supported with sandstone blocks. There are four different terraced layers tool the pools, the upper levels given dedicated places to spill into the lower ones. All the pools are full at the moment, but there's a wide-mouthed faucet over the uppermost pool that likely leads back to the water tower the _Nameless_ is now connected to.

When Gunny sees the newcomers arrive, she glares at Mal. _"I_ found them first," she says.

"I haven't even said anything yet!" Mal protests. "If you had _let_ me, I would've said _Ladies_ _first_. Here." He tosses Alice the bag of supplies he brought with him. "One of you ladies come and get me when you're all clean and shiny, hmm?"

He turns on his heel and is gone before either Gunny or Alice can protest — not that either of them particularly want to. They're more than happy to strip down and slide into the cool, refreshing water.

Gunny is rather a bit more efficient about the process than Alice is. Alice has barely gone through all of the things Mal packed — soap, yes, but also a comb, and a few towels — when Gunny is climbing out. "Is half an hour long enough?" Gunny asks, grabbing one of the towels and using it to start mopping at her hair.

"Hmm?" Alice asks. She glances up at Gunny, and then quickly away, embarrassed by the other woman's nakedness.

"Before I tell Mal he can get here. Is half an hour long enough, or should I tell him to wait longer?"

 _I really_ should _be done by then,_ Alice thinks, even though she knows getting herself out in time is going to be a struggle, to say the least. The water is just _so_ relaxing and pleasant...

"Half an hour should be fine," she says.

"Right," Gunny says. "See you."

And with that she is off, leaving Alice alone once more. She gets on with the more productive side of bathing and eventually she's got just a few minutes left, by her reckoning, so she leans back and truly _relaxes_ for the last few moments. In a minute she'll get up. In a minute she'll get up, because Mal is coming soon, but for now, she can close her eyes and lean her head back in the water and—

"Alice?"

She startles upright — and then realizes that standing all the way upright here only keeps the water up to her waist. So she quickly crosses her arms — and pretends the water is opaque enough to be any kind of effective cover.

"What are you doing here?" she demands, trying to fight against the blush that's creeping over her features.

"I thought you'd be — done, by now. Gunny said you needed half an hour, but I gave you a bit more than that, just in case..."

 _I didn't fall asleep, did I?_ Alice wonders. "Well, I'm not. Could you, like, close your eyes or something? So I can get out?"

"Why?"

 _"Mal,"_ Alice says exasperatedly. "Please?"

"Oh, fine," he mutters. Then, he actually does one better — he turns around, too. Alice keeps an eye on him for a bit, just long enough to determine whether he's entirely faking it and will turn around the instant she makes a splash — but he doesn't move, so she hauls herself out of the water.

She's only just gotten her pants on when Mal finally seems to grow impatient. "Aren't you out yet?" he asks.

"Yes," she says, looking to button her pants. "But I'm not—" She looks up, expecting to see Mal's back, but she's instead making eye contact with him. "—dressed," she finishes lamely.

"I — um — right," Mal says, shaking his head roughly. He seems to forget what's going on for a moment, and then he turns around so his back is to her again. In a rush, she pulls her blouse over her head.

"You can turn around now," she calls out to Mal.

"You sure?" he asks.

"Yes," she says. Only then does he turn around. She's patting her hair dry the best she can with a towel that's still fairly damp. It's not the best thing for the job, and it shows.

When she looks over at Mal, she's surprised to see that _he's_ blushing, too. Not nearly as much as she is — she's not sure if anyone can blush as much as she has been, recently — but there's a tinge to his cheeks and a look in his eye that's keeping him from exactly meeting hers.

"So. Uh. I'm sorry—"

"Don't worry about it," she says quickly. "There's still soap and stuff. There's only one towel, though. Gunny took two."

"That's why I packed two for her," Mal says. "Well, I suppose it's my turn now. So, unless you want to stay..."

The idea sounds both mildly tempting and terribly dangerous. This time, the danger weighs out. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I think I'm going to have to pass this time. I'm sure Gunny is already coming up with stories."

"Right. Yes. Of course. Gunny."

Alice nods. Then, she quickly turns on her heel and positively flees. She's all the way back up on the dock before she's even _thought_ about how weird their interaction was — and what a fool she feels like now for simply running away from what could have been a good opportunity.

 _No, Alice, you'll know a real opportunity when you see one,_ she tells herself. She can only hope that's true. She's made up her mind about what she wants, true, but not when — there's still something she's waiting for. Which is fine, of course, but it also means that she wants to scream, sometimes. _Especially_ after interactions like this.

"You look mad," Gunny observes.

Alice looks up from her position below the _Nameless_ and sees Gunny leaning over the rail, staring down at Alice thoughtfully. Alice shrugs.

"I don't know if _mad_ is exactly the right word..."

"Well, do you have a better one?"

"Frustrated?"

"And that's substantially different?"

"Yes. At least in context. He'd have to _do_ something to make me mad."

Gunny grins. "Trouble with Mal?"

Alice narrows her eyes. "What do you care?"

"He's my captain, of course I care," Gunny says shortly. "At least, I care about what _he_ thinks. That's why I've already had a chat with him. The question is whether I care what _you_ think."

Alice can't decide whether this is supposed to be insulting. She errs on the side of not. _"Do_ you care?" she asks.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Gunny says. "But maybe let's stop discussing it out in the open?"

This only makes Alice terribly more curious what Gunny has to say. "Alright, then," she says. "Where did you want to go to talk?"

Before answering, Gunny drops through the open hatch. Alice follows her down and then to a secluded corner where she's hung her hammock. The boilers must be close by, because Alice can not only hear them, but she's also pleasantly warm.

Gunny breaks the comforting image by making a statement that is somewhere between an accusation and a question. "Mal said you were a — Pierson."

Alice makes a face. "Gods, no," she says quickly. "I can see how he'd think that, but it's not true."

"Then why would he think that?" Gunny asks. Alice gives her a sidelong look. She can't tell if Gunny's actually interested, or just fishing for information. The thing is, if she's fishing for information, she's likely to be unpleasantly surprised. Alice really doesn't have much of that, and anyway Gunny is going about trying to find out who she is in the strangest way Alice has seen. At least, it isn't doing much of anything to determine any of the _relevant_ parts of who she is, not that Alice can see.

"'Cause my mom married a Piers," Alice says. "He's not my father, though."

"Fahrn is."

Alice wonders, briefly, how much Mal has told Gunny. Then she realizes it's not her place to judge him for telling his shipmate. Clearly these are developments that are relevant to both of them... even if Alice doesn't particularly appreciate being talked about behind her back. In particular she's starting to wonder how much Mal _offered,_ and how much Gunny wheedled out of him. She finds herself far more likely to forgive him for things brought out in the latter case.

"Yeah," Alice says. "Fahrn is my father, Piers is my step-father. Any more questions?"

"If he married your mother, wouldn't that automatically make you a Pierson?"

"No," Alice says firmly. As a matter of fact, she'd kept her mother's maiden name, Moore, but she wasn't about to tell Gunny that, or why keeping it had been so important to her. "They weren't married 'til I was eight. Before that Ma and I lived by ourselves. Ma's a portrait artist."

Gunny gives her a funny look. Alice has a feeling that even if she knew the emotion behind it, it wouldn't make it any clearer. "And she made enough at that to get by?"

Alice doesn't really know how to answer that question. It sounds vaguely loaded, even if it weren't that problematic of a topic. Frankly, Alice can't _remember_ whether they were hungry. The few things she can remember of her life before Piers walked into it are afternoons in the park eating sandwiches and feeding the crusty ends to the ducks. And her mother's studio being more than half the tiny flat they'd lived in. And sometimes, when men came for their portraits, Helene would send Alice to the park alone...

"We made do," Alice says. "Then Piers walked into our life — _all_ the Piers did."

"So they really are all called Piers, then?" Gunny asks.

"Oh, they're not _called_ Piers," Alice says. "That would be far too confusing. They're just all _named_ Piers."

"Because that's less confusing?"

"It is when they all go by their middle names instead."

Gunny nods. "Fair point." Then she spends a moment just looking at Alice before speaking again. "Listen, do you think you could help me out? I'd like to refill our water, but working with the pipes is really a two person job."

Alice only takes an instant to consider it. "Yeah, alright," she says, and helps Gunny to prepare them for the next leg of their journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Leave me a comment to let me know, and I'll see you on Friday!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you been desperately wondering about the _Nameless'_ name? Well, fortunately for those of you who have, Mal explains the unusual moniker in this chapter.

"Well, at least they've got decent docking facilities," Mal says, collapsing the spyglass with a snap _._ They've made good time from Drop, and it's put him in a good mood. He tucks the spyglass in his belt before calling back down the ship. "Gunny, you alright sailing her in?"

"Got it, Captain!" she calls back. Alice turns to Mal.

"So what now?" she asks, picking herself up from where she's leaning against the rail of the ship. "How's Fahrn going to find us? Or do we find him?"

"It is most certainly _his_ job to find _us,"_ Mal says firmly. "I did as I was asked and ran off to this island in the middle of nowhere that no one's ever heard of. If Fahrn wants the cargo now, he can hunt me down and _pay me_ for it. In the meantime, I plan on finding out what this little nowhere island has in the way of entertainment. Care to join me?"

Alice glances back towards the aft deck. "And Gunny doesn't mind watching the ship?"

"She knew what she was getting herself into when she agreed to take the ship into port," Mal says. It's not a very confident answer — he's distracted, by the sight of a ship speeding towards them. "Hang on, what's that?"

"What's what?" Alice asks, even as she's turning to look. "Is that — a ship?"

Mal pulls his spyglass back out of his pocket. "She's smaller than the _Nameless_ — speedy, too. Probably not meant for any real range, just short-range patrols..."

Alice looks a little closer, and she can identify a small dark object that has pulled away from the main conglomeration of the island. As she watches, it appears to grow — it must be going _incredibly_ fast.

"It looks like it's running," she says.

"Yes, I think so," Mal says. He's still got the spyglass plastered to his eye. "Gunny!"

"I see it!" she calls. "Not much I can do without turning around."

He nods. He knows that much. What he can't decide is whether it's worth _trying_ to run.

"Is it running _to_ or _from_ something?" Alice asks.

"To. _To_ us."

Alice's breath catches in her throat suddenly. _It's just a tiny ship,_ she tells herself. _It's nothing important, it's not going to hurt us—_

_But we're still headed straight for it._

"Gunny, if anything abruptly changes, shout," Mal says. "I'm getting our papers."

He bolts for the ladder and then is gone for a minute or two. When he's back, Alice needs a double take to make sure she's seen it correctly, but he's brought his sword. She's not entirely sure why he thinks they'll end up in a situation where he needs both their papers _and_ the sword, but maybe he'd just _said_ the bit about papers.

He'd need to do better than that, though, because she's most certainly staring, now.

"Mal, what are you expecting to be on that ship?" she asks as he approaches the bow where she's standing.

He glances self-consciously down at the sword on his hip and carefully closes his coat over it. "It never hurts to be prepared," he says diplomatically.

"So then you _do_ actually have the papers?" She asks.

He procures them from the inner pocket of his coat and waves them at her. "Any more questions?"

"Yes, actually," she says. "Why is your sword on your right hip?"

Mal gives her a mystified look. "Because I'm left-handed?" he says.

"Oh," she says. It's such an obvious answer that she suddenly feels terribly foolish for asking. "Sorry. I, uh, didn't realize. I thought it was some kind of — well, never mind."

"Some kind of what?"

He sounds genuinely interested. Which only makes Alice feel worse, because she's now realizing that her thought was incredibly foolish. "I thought it was some kind of — disguise technique, or something. That you were gonna say something witty, like _there's only a law against elves being armed on their left hip_ or something."

Mal lets out a quick snort of laughter — which Alice promptly swats him for, but it still makes her regret being truthful. Really, it makes her regret bringing it up in the first place, but it's rather a bit too late for that. "I wish it were that easy to get around the laws forbidding elves from arming themselves," he says. "No one listens when I tell them I'm half-human."

"I can't imagine why," Alice says, with a point glance towards his ears.

"Hey! No one'd believe _you_ if you told them you were half-elf."

"And that's supposed to be a _bad_ thing?"

Mal abruptly stiffens. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be a little _sympathetic—"_

"UNIDENTIFIED SHIP!"

Mal and Alice startle and together turn towards the distant shout. The ship is too far for it to be a natural shout — it's too clear, and the ship too far. Which means the only reasonable explanation is some kind of amplified sound, but what could possibly—

"ATTENTION! UNIDENTIFIED SHIP! YOU _WILL_ BE BOARDED!"

"Well, that doesn't sound ominous at _all_ ," Mal says.

 _Famous last words,_ Alice thinks ruefully, as the ship continues speeding towards them.

#

The ship's crew makes good on their threat — or promise, depending on how you look at it. Minutes later, a crew of nearly a dozen has grappled the distance between _The Ship Without A Name_ and the patrol ship. Alice tries to spot some kind of label that would tell her who the ship belongs to, but none of the identifiers she sees are familiar. Even the crew's uniform provides no insight, except to prove that Alice suddenly hasn't gotten better at reading the subtler signs of rank.

Eventually, one of the faceless, nameless crew members comes up from the hold carrying a small crate of syringes. He heads straight for the apparent captain of the other vessel. The two men are muttering over the crate for a while before the captain gives an order that sends all the men within hearing below deck. Then, the captain comes over to them.

"My men have found some particularly _interesting_ cargo in your hold," the captain says. Alice can't tell whether he's trying to address her, or Mal, who are standing side-by-side. He seems to be unable to decide whether a woman or an elf is more likely to be the captain. Alice isn't entirely sure whether she should be insulted.

"Interesting," Mal says. The other captain raises his eyebrows.

"Indeed," he says. "Do you have any explanation for what you're carrying?"

Mal shrugs. "An elf named Fahrn found out we had it and demanded we bring it to your island — assuming you are, in fact, from that island beyond us there. We haven't managed to make it yet, so I couldn't be sure—"

"That's your excuse?" the captain interrupts. "'An elf named Fahrn'?"

Mal shrugs. "You said you wanted the truth."

The foreign captain sighs. "Don't play games with me, _elf._ I've had it up to here with liars and thieves and you've gotta be _one_ of those, if not both. Right now my men are searching your ship for contraband, and let me tell you, once we find it, you're going to be facing _serious_ charges."

"Oh? Against whom, exactly?" Mal asks. "I don't suppose the Company ships this far out?"

The other man turns and spits his disapproval. "The _glorious_ Piers & Son Company hasn't _graced_ the Tuanakis with their presence since they reduced Drop to the sand bar it is today," the captain growls angrily.

This piques Alice's interest. "What do you mean, 'reduced'?"

"What I _mean_ is, once — before you were born, I'm sure — Drop was a reasonable island. Not large, mind you, but big enough, big enough you could store things on it. And regularly visited enough that there was actually someone there who could _help_ you if things went awry. A first defense, as it were. And then the _Company_ bombarded it, reduced the protective fleet stationed there to a bunch of driftwood and ash. No, fuck the Company. And fuck _you,_ if you're working for them. All we got out here is ourselves, and it's just _ourselves_ what's gonna get _yourselves_ arrested. Branson! Throw them all in the brig!"

#

Alice paces one corner of the cell anxiously. She, Mal, Gunny, and Den are all crammed into a cell really meant for one or maybe two people, and Alice wants to scream. Den is fairly agitated, which Alice finds unsurprising given that this is the first time she's seen him get off the ship. Mal and Gunny, however, seem resigned to their fate, and are calmly resting in different corners of the cell. Unfortunately, Alice can't relax in a space like this. It's far too close and she has no room to move and yet there's _still_ a guard watching their every move, and how are they supposed to get out of a situation like this, and—

"Can you stop moving around so much?" Mal asks.

"Excuse _me_ for not being able to sleep," Alice snaps.

"You're excused," Mal mutters. "The rest of us are trying it though, so—"

"How can you _really_ be thinking of sleep? We've been jailed!"

"Yeah, and unless you not only have lock picks but also some secret weapon that allows us to take back our ship hidden in that blouse of yours, there's not much we can do about it. So we might as well take the chance to rest, while we can."

"You say this like getting imprisoned is a part of your everyday schedule."

"Well, I tend to only save it for a _special_ occasion, and if it were up to me I'd do it _after_ lunch, not before, but—"

"You _can't_ be serious."

Mal shrugs. "You'd be surprised how many times I've been jailed for having false papers."

"You have false papers?"

"No," Mal says. He shifts a little, trying vainly to get comfortable. Now would be a great time to pull a hat down over his eyes and make it clear to _certain individuals_ that he's not really in the mood for talking. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought ahead enough to realize that would require him actually _having_ a hat to wear when he got jailed, but then again, there's only so much any one person can predict. "But too many people look at me and see _elf_ and think _thief_. I'm sure you know what it's like."

Alice can't say she does, but she's not sure that's the wisest thing to say, at a moment like this. _She's_ certainly angry enough to snap at Mal over stupid things like — _not_ wanting to pace, when they're cooped up.

Abruptly, Alice sits down on the ground. Mal cracks an eye open to look at her. "Finally given up?" he asks.

"I, just... what do we do, now?"

"We wait," Mal says. "And we hope that Fahrn springs us — or at the least that the Tuanakis have a sense of justice we can appeal to. Surely _someone_ is gonna care that this crazy captain arrested us for nothing."

"And what if no one cares?"

Mal shrugs. "Fahrn'll want the cargo. I'm certain of that. Now, do you have anything you actually want to _add_ to the conversation, or are you just gonna complain some more about the fact that we're jailed? Because, I heard the complaints the first hundred times, and I'd really appreciate it if I could at least do _something_ productive with my time."

"Sleeping is productive now?" Alice angrily retorts, but Mal just makes a non-committal noise. She can't begin to tell whether it's agreement or not, but the truth is it doesn't really matter. They are where they are, and all that's left to do is spend the time thinking about it. Or sleeping.

#

After a short trip by airship, the prisoners are shuffled off on a small, clearly private dock. The last Alice catches a glimpse of her, the _Nameless_ is being sailed in right behind their captor ship. With luck it'll be docked nearby, so that when they get out they can easily pick it up.

 _If_ they get out.

But all too quickly, they're shuffled off into awaiting cells. The women get one to themselves, and Mal and Den are together in another. The good news is that they all end up close enough that they can talk to each other. The bad news is the first time they start talking a guard at the end of the corridor shouts out that they won't get supper if they don't shut up, so that rather abruptly curtails any hope of plotting an escape together.

For two long days, all Alice and Gunny do is stare at each other. They'd both inspected the lock on the way in, out of nearly equal habit, but neither was able to keep her picks. Alice can't really say she's surprised but she's rather annoyed. She's got _just_ the thing for this kind of false gate setup, but there's no way she's fashioning something good enough out of a spoon. And the one pick she still has tucked away under multiple layers of clothing won't be nearly enough for this kind of lock.

So she and Gunny spend the rest of their time just staring at each other. Neither of them has much of anything to say, to start with, and anyway Alice at least is a bit concerned about the threat of missing supper. Missing a meal isn't the biggest concern in the world, but all of a sudden she's no longer sure when her next one will be. She never remembered being hungry growing up, but that didn't stop her from feeling like she was dying the first time she didn't eat for a week. She'd thought it had been a test, some kind of trick by Piers — something she had to prove herself against, which would lead her back to the Pierson estate. So she'd done everything she could to avoid succumbing to the mounting desire to just _go home_... until she'd passed out in an alley and nearly gotten herself killed for her troubles.

Finally, on the third day of their imprisonment, something different happens. Someone comes down and talks to the guard for a while, drawing both women to the cell door to listen. The door is simply wrought iron set into the stone walls of the prison, so it's not like listening is difficult. It's seeing that's difficult, because there's no way to get themselves at the right angle to see who's at the end of the corridor.

Then, suddenly, there's an audible jangle of keys and the sound of the guard grumpily getting to his feet. A moment later, Fahrn appears outside the women's cell, with the guard behind him. The guard unlocks their cell door and then moves on to the one next to them, containing Mal and Den.

"Come, quickly," Fahrn says. The four are more than willing to exit the prison with all due haste, though Gunny steals a careful glance towards Mal on the way out. He notices it, and returns it with only a shrug.

"Will we be getting our things back?" Alice asks Fahrn before they've made it down the length of the corridor. Fahrn sighs, turns around, and calls to the guard, "Their effects?"

The guard doesn't answer at first.

"I would _really_ appreciate it if you wouldn't waste my time," Fahrn says. "I have no great love in my heart for people who get in the way of me doing my job."

Under his breath, the guard mutters something _undoubtedly_ insulting. However, he _is_ wise enough to follow it up with, "Store room. Second door on your right on the way out."

"There you are, Alice," Fahrn says. "Now come along, everyone. You're already _rather_ late to your own hearing."

#

"— _incredibly_ improper, and I must say that I simply _cannot_ stand for it. I _will not_ stand for it. Continue in this vein, my lord, and you will not have the support of the regulars for your rule!"

Fahrn clears his throat. The very same captain who'd arrested the crew of the _Nameless_ — and Alice — is pacing angrily in front of a desk, gesticulating wildly. His eyes finally land on the group in the doorway. He seems to grow even _more_ furious at the sight of Fahrn — and his eyes nearly bug out of his head when he realizes there are four more people behind him.

"You've _released_ them?" he exclaims, practically accosting Fahrn.

"Jeremy, for the last time, _sit down,_ " says a commanding voice from behind the stately desk. Alice shifts a little so she can see around Fahrn and the captain — Jeremy — to who has spoken. It's a well-dressed, older man, wearing the garb of a statesman — or at least, similar to what all the statesmen who visited Piers looked like, when they were visiting on official business. Since she'd left the estate, she hadn't had many run-ins with statesmen, and it distracts her for a moment, trying to figure out whether she's finally coming back up in the world — and whether that's even something she wants.

Jeremy stiffly settles into one of the chairs in front of the desk. Two more remain empty, and man behind the desk looks over the motley crew arrayed in front of him.

"I see you've rustled up quite a crew this time, Fahrn," he says. "I wish you'd said something, I could have scrounged up some more chairs."

"George, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Alice. Alice, this is George Karon, mayor of Headstone."

Alie freezes for a moment — should she bow or curtsy? — but eventually returns the polite nod that the mayor offers in her direction. Thankfully, the polite words for this situation come to her tongue easily enough. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," she says demurely.

George raises his eyebrows. "A daughter who looks human, and who speaks like a Pierson?"

He leaves out the implied _There must be a story there_ but everyone in the room hears it anyway. All Fahrn says, though, is, "Indeed." Then, he turns to the other three. "This is the crew of the _Nameless_ — Mal, the captain; the others I have not yet been introduced to myself."

"I'm Gunny and this is Den," Gunny says.

"The man Fahrn just introduced as Mal?" George asks.

"No," Den says. His gruff, accented voice makes George start. Alice can't entirely blame him; she was a bit surprised to see a dwarf out of mountains they're said to exclusively inhabit. "Down here."

George leans forward in his chair until he sees Den clearly enough. He begins stroking his lightly-bearded chin, clearly thinking hard. Then his expression changes to a sudden smile. "A pleasure," he says, his attention turning back to Mal. "I apologize for not having enough chairs, but ladies, if you'd like...?"

Alice immediately flops into the chair furthest from Jeremy. Gunny, leaning back against the wall beside the door, says, "Thanks, but I'll just hang out here."

It makes Alice feel a bit foolish for taking the seat so quickly, but then Mal comes to stand behind her chair, his hands resting on the back. Den slides over by Gunny, taking the wall on the other side of the door frame. Glancing back at them, Alice has a sudden memory of that last, fateful conversation she had had with Piers, where she had had to justify something as simple as owning a _pistol._ She'd expected him to have body guards backing him up as he accused her of all of the other extravagant adventures she was wasting her time with.

And now it's _she_ — well, Mal — who has the backup. She can't say she dislikes it being there, even if it isn't strictly _hers._ Because _her_ backup is Mal, standing right behind her. And that certainly feels good.

"Sir," Jeremy says. "This — this _elf_ has claimed that he owns this ship. The _Nameless."_

"Yes, I've heard you the first hundred times," George says. "Fahrn, why did you think it would be a good idea to send strangers to Tuanaki without a proper escort? Or at least a proper writ?"

Fahrn, to Alice's surprise, looks uncomfortable. "I didn't expect they'd get here so _fast,"_ he says. Alice grins privately.

George frowns at Fahrn. "That's really the best excuse you could come up with?" he asks. The elf just shrugs.

"I was in a bit of a hurry. Rhai needed care..."

"Is she alright?" Alice asks. Fahrn glances at her with a strange look on his face, and the worst part is Alice can't tell whether she's just earned herself brownie points, or wasted those that she's earned.

"She's with some of the best doctors in Tuanaki," Fahrn says. Which doesn't really answer Alice's question, except for the bit where it tells her that it's a bit more serious than she had thought.

"That doesn't change the fact that it's illegal in _all_ the islands for an elf to own a named ship."

Alice bristles. _It's illegal for Mal to own the ship?_ she wonders. _Why didn't he say it was mine, then? Oh, Mal, you stupid—_

"She's not named," Mal says.

Four heads turn quickly in his direction, including Alice who simply tilts her head back to look at him. She's also the one who figures out what to say first. "She's not?"

"The law states this: 'No elf may own a ship but one without a name.' The _Nameless_ is simply a nickname."

Jeremy sputters indignantly. "But your papers here, they identify her as—"

"As _The Ship Without A Name,_ yes. However, I do believe that the law would allow me to own such a ship, as she is, in fact, _nameless."_

Jeremy lets out an inarticulate exclamation. Alice grins broadly, and she's rewarded by Mal sparing a small glance down at her. Then she glances at Fahrn and George — Fahrn is shaking his head, but George seems to be considering the situation.

"Sir!" Jeremy says. "I really _must_ protest—"

"Yes, yes, I know. You _must protest_ the elves getting too much power, because wasn't it their rebellion that condemned Tuanaki to the state it's in. And yes, that's true — to an extent. But what you're forgetting is that this is no _native elf_ rebelling against being enslaved who is sitting in front of you, but a good businessman who is making the best of what is indeed an unfortunate situation for those cursed to find themselves born into it."

"I'm only half elf, if it makes things any better," Mal offers helpfully. He seems incredibly nonchalant about the whole situation, which makes Alice suspect this isn't the first time he's found himself in a situation like this.

She wonders whether they'll keep happening if she sticks around long enough.

"I believe that just may be in your favor in this instance, Mal," George says. "I'm not sure I could let a full elf get away with it — but I'm inclined to give a pass to someone who has managed to find a way to work _within_ a law that doesn't particularly work for them. It's something you'll find rather a lot of, in this lovely little chain of islands of ours."

Mal grins. "Thank you, sir," he says. "Now, as for the matter of the cargo—"

"Yes, it's been confiscated. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to turn it over to you, simply because of what it is."

"Could you turn it over to Fahrn instead?"

"And what advantage would that pose to you?"

"I was simply tasked with bringing it here," Mal says. "I wouldn't want to end up in jail for taking cargo that wasn't really mine. Fahrn said he'd buy it from me. I'm just looking for payment, really, and then we'll be on our way."

"And never come back to the Tuanakis?" Jeremy says, not bothering to disguise the hope in his tone.

"Not unless I have a good reason to. But I won't be kicked out, either. I'll leave of my own free will — on _my_ ship."

George nods, thinking. "Yes, I suppose that will do. Fahrn, get the elixir off my island. The rest of you are free to go — except you, Jeremy, you and I need to have a bit of a chat."

Jeremy doesn't look very happy about that. Fahrn and Alice get to their feet, and then those who are leaving quickly file out of George's office. Fahrn is last out and closes the door behind him, but he's not remotely surprised to see the others milling in the hallway.

"Come with me," he tells the others. "We'll need to recover the _Nameless_ and the cargo. Then, I'll need to hunt you down a map — I'd like you to take the cargo to a deeper island. My ship isn't big enough to carry it all."

"Will there be payment?"

The corner of Fahrn's mouth quirks a little at Mal's question. "Yes, there will be payment. Not sure if it'll be what you're expecting, though."

Mal narrows his eyes. "What _will_ it be, then?"

"You'll see," Fahrn says. "It'll be worth the trip. Come on, the docks aren't far."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! We're in the back half but there is plenty more excitement and adventure to go. Leave me kudos or a comment to let me know you liked it, and I'll see you on Monday!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, you guys! Life has been a little crazy lately. Ah, well, what do we expect from 2020? Please enjoy this new chapter!

A few hours later, the _Nameless_ is back to normal. Alice freely offers her help with returning the cargo to the hold, although her father conveniently disappears during that time, saying something about a map. Not long after the hold is full, while Alice, Gunny, and Mal are all lying stretched out on the deck of the _Nameless_ , Fahrn returns.

He lands on the deck softly, and the others barely notice. "You three ready to get some work done?" he asks.

 _"We_ have gotten work done," Alice says as she sits up. _"You_ just went and found a map."

"Which _I_ would appreciate looking at," Mal says diplomatically. "Come, let's go to the cabin."

So they do. With four people in it, Alice finally finds it cramped. It doesn't help that their things have recently been searched, and the ham-fingered wanna-be cops didn't particularly care about whether they left a mess behind. While the others gather around the desk, Alice goes about hurriedly picking up her and Mal's things and putting them back in a reasonable semblance of order.

Meanwhile, Fahrn pushes aside most of the stuff on Mal's desk, clearing a space large enough for the map. He rolls it out and points out a few particular points on the rippled vellum. Alice can hear him clearly, even if she can't quite see the details while she's doing things like re-sheathing the swords and putting them back in Mal's wardrobe.

"Headstone is here," Fahrn says, pointing to a blotch somewhat shaped like a curly-cue. "I'd like you to take the cargo here."

"Hmm," Mal says. "That's a bit far..."

"In a ship as fast as yours it'll take you a week. And that's if you decide to stop at all the islands between here and there. You _could_ make it in less time."

 _You don't know the half of it,_ Mal thinks. But that's not his problem with the prospect. "Getting it there isn't the concern," Mal says. "Why should I go three islands deeper into a chain that has nothing in it for me?"

"There's plenty of reason to go to Lonely Palms," Fahrn insists. The name of the island piques Alice's interest, as it's shared by the school where her parents met. But that's not important enough for her to interrupt. "And there _will_ be payment," Fahrn continues.

"Of a mysterious sort, which for some reason you are unwilling to tell me about before we get the job done."

Fahrn shifts uncomfortably. "It's not exactly money..."

Mal rolls his eyes. "No, shit. What is it?"

"Tuanaki coal."

Alice inhales sharply and immediately stops what she's doing. "There's more Tuanaki coal?" she asks, turning around to face the conversation.

Fahrn looks over at her. "There's _always_ been more Tuanaki coal," he says. "There's always been a fair few more _Tuanakis_ than most people know about."

"What's Tuanaki coal?" Mal asks carefully.

"It's a special kind of coal that burns hotter and cleaner than any coal you're used to," Alice answers quickly. "All the respectable folk — like Piers level respectable, I'm talking, cause the stuff's _terrible_ expensive — their houses _only_ run Tuanaki coal. The problem is, they wanted it so bad they dug it all out of Tuanaki in the span of a decade. That's why Tuanaki's so... pitiful. But, if there's more Tuanakis... and their veins run rich with Tuanaki coal..."

"You know an awful lot about coal for someone who's never worked with it," Gunny observes.

"It makes a fantastic bribe," Alice says. "Piers has — well, had, there's no guarantee he hasn't given it all away — a _fantastic_ supply of it. I've picked up that much from simply being around him."

"She's not wrong," Fahrn says. "The only thing you'd need is someone to buy it from you. Or you could keep it and use it for yourself, of course. You wouldn't need to refuel for years. I have a crate with your name on it — on Lonely Palms Island."

"Hmm," Mal says. He glances to Gunny briefly, but as good as Alice has gotten at interpreting their silence communication, she's not sure what the look says. "Why not ask one of the locals to do it?"

Fahrn shifts uncomfortably. "There aren't many freighters in the Tuanakis large as yours, and yours is certainly the largest in port now," he says, though the _Nameless_ is by no imagination _large_. "Not to mention that not many locals would take this cargo, and _especially_ not from me..."

Mal narrows his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because they think the elixir is — cursed. And they're not exactly the biggest fans of elves, if you hadn't noticed."

"I had," Mal says dryly. "But why do they think the elixir's cursed?"

"Because of what it's done to these islands," Fahrn says. "Once, back when the Tuanakis were somewhere that the Company actually shipped to — back when they were prosperous — the goldenfish elixir was just a made-up story. A magical golden elixir that could cure all ills. Mystic women would sell little bottles of 'elixir' that was usually brandy and lemon water and everyone would pretend that it would fix everything that was wrong with them. There was a part of the story that was told of the Lost Tuanaki Island, the one where the wellspring of this golden elixir could be found. It was all such preposterous nonsense. Humans will believe the most ridiculous things."

"Then what, exactly, is in our hold? Brandy and lemon water?"

"That's just it," Fahrn says. "A few decades ago, back when I was in school, we accidentally figured it out. Alemein was trying to replicate the iridescence of goldenfish scales in a paint. In some sort of over-exuberant demonstration, he got some of his batch on one of Hedgewick's miniature automata. It stained the brass a brilliant gold the places it touched... but it _also_ made the brass impervious to pretty much everything we could throw at it."

"That doesn't exactly sound like a _bad_ thing," Alice says. "So why make us drag this elixir all over kingdom come?"

"Because that's just what it did to brass. When it got into a human... One of Alemein's students spilled a fair bit on herself, and she went stark raving mad in the span of three days. Then she jumped from the roof of the school and died."

Fahrn's tone is incredibly matter-of-fact, but that doesn't stop Alice from flinching.

"I'm still not following," Mal says. "What does this have to do with the cargo we have?"

"What you have is a much more refined version of that first 'goldenfish elixir'," Fahrn says. "Needless to say, after Lily's death, Hedgewick and Alemein decided to keep their discovery under wraps. Or, at least, Hedgewick did. Alemein wanted to keep working on it — he was convinced he'd figure out a way to mix it that would allow them to use it on people. You see, Alemein was convinced it would give people magic."

Alice wonders abruptly if they have fallen from the sky, for she certainly feels the deck drop out from beneath her feet. "Magic?" she repeats incredulously.

"You can't be serious," Mal says.

"I can be as serious as I want to," Fahrn says. "And right now, I want to be very, _very_ serious. Alemein wasn't the only one who was convinced the goldenfish elixir would give people magic. He had a student, Tanner, who was equally taken up in the whole thing. _I_ thought they were both a bit mad, Tanner especially for continuing the search after it killed Alemein, but it certainly looks like _someone_ figured out how to turn it into something that could be used on people."

"How can you be sure?" Gunny asks. "If Alemein and Tanner were researching it, and Alemein is dead..."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Tanner found someone he could sell his secrets to," Fahrn says darkly. "He was always a bit desperate — he hadn't come from money, but he lived like he had. Which meant he had plenty of people he owed money to. Some knew more about what he did than others — so I'm sure someone got him to tell them what he knew. If it could be used to pay off a debt, I'm sure Tanner wouldn't have hesitated to tell anyone what he'd sworn to Alemein to keep secret."

"But this isn't the stuff he made," Alice says. "You said this is... better?"

Fahrn makes a face. "Better is probably not the right word... I doubt there _is_ a 'better' with goldenfish elixir. It's too volatile, too... weird, frankly. This batch looks pretty stable, all things considered — or, perhaps Rhai simply didn't get quite _enough_ of it to do anything. Either way, what's happened to her palm... I've only seen something like that happen once before, and it was to the girl I mentioned, who'd gotten it spilled on herself. Everywhere it touched her skin, it had turned hard and... well, golden."

"But Rhai's gonna be okay, right?" Alice asks "I mean, she only got a little on herself, so she's not gonna — go crazy. Right?"

Fahrn gives her the same odd look he'd given her before. "Why do you care?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why do you care? You're asking like Rhai is — someone to you. And she's not."

"She's my sister."

"Alice," Mal says warningly, though she can't imagine why. It's not like anything she's said is _wrong._

"So you share some blood — some, not all of it, mind. What's that matter to you? You're not... dying, are you?"

Alice gives him a confused look. "No," she says. "Why, is _she_?"

"No," Fahrn says.

"Good. Sorry I asked about the well-being of a sister I've only just met."

"You act like you know her already."

Alice shifts uncomfortably. "She's twelve, right?"

Fahrn nods.

"She reminds me of another sister I have — another _half-_ sister, since the distinction seems to matter to you so much."

"And that sister's dead?"

"What?! No! I mean, I don't think so..."

The truth is, she doesn't know — and like when Fahrn asked about her mother, it's making Alice surprisingly regret leaving her family behind. Of course, this wouldn't be the first time for that feeling — she's _tried_ to go back — but she's annoyed she can't even keep track of her old life enough to know whether anyone is _dead_.

"Why are you so convinced everyone in Alice's life is dead?" Gunny asks. The question is startling, but Alice appreciates it — it's only one of many things that have been plaguing her about this conversation, and she's just glad that she doesn't have to do the work of asking about every single one of them.

"Because that's the main reason elves hunt each other down. There are certain things that can only be passed down to family members, so an elf who knows he's dying might seek out blood kin."

"And don't those same 'blood kin' want to search out whoever it is that originally _has_ what's being passed on?" Gunny asks.

"They're not always good things," Mal says. "In fact, they're usually not."

"What _are_ they then?" Alice asks. "Family curses?"

It's a joke, but Mal and Fahrn both give her serious looks. "You could say that," Fahrn says.

"Look, I don't have any _family curse_ to give you," Alice says. "I just thought you might, you know, care. That I exist."

"Oh, yes, I care _very_ much," Fahrn says dryly. "Now, have we settled the matter of transporting the elixir?

Mal gives Alice a long look, like he's trying to determine what she's thinking without actually being able to read her mind. "Should we expect to meet more welcoming parties like Headstone's?" he asks Fahrn, turning back to face him.

"Ah," Fahrn says, rather carefully. "That depends."

"On?"

"Whether you plan to make any stops between here and Lonely Palms. Not all the Tuanakis are quite as welcoming as you'd expect, coming from the main belt."

"Right," Mal says. "In that case, Gunny—"

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I'm going to say," he protests.

"I don't need to," Gunny says. "You want me to act captain til we get out of here. And my answer is, _no._ I meant it when I signed on, and I mean it now."

Mal sighs. "Fine. We'll just have to stock up so we don't have to stop. Which I can't exactly say I'm _thrilled_ with, but it'll do." He sighs, and then begins digging around in the drawers of his desk. "Fahrn, could you point Gunny to town?" He pulls out a purse and tosses it to Gunny, who catches it easily. "Check with Den before you go but I think the only thing we need is food. Get enough for the four of us for a month. We'll need to be prepared."

Gunny nods and ducks out of the cabin. Only after she's gone does Alice realize that she didn't protest Mal's implication that Alice would be sticking around for a while.

At Mal's pointed look, Fahrn follows Gunny out of the cabin. However, on the threshold, he pauses. "When you get to Lonely Palms, ask for Mortimer. Anyone there should be able to point you to the Academy. He'll know my name, but the others might not."

"And they'll let us dock?"

Fahrn nods. "They're a little less wary of strangers on Lonely Palms than Headstone. I'm pretty sure they'll let you dock."

"Pretty sure?" Mal repeats.

"The last time I visited, they didn't quite feel the need to investigate the identity of every person who arrived in their docks. However, it's been a few years since then, so I can't be entirely sure..."

"Lovely," Mal says. "Well, go on. Or were you going to ask to come along with us?"

Fahrn doesn't answer at first. "You could get there days before me."

Mal sighs. His suggestion _hadn't_ been entirely serious, and now he's in a bit of a pickle. Eventually, he says, "Cabin's occupied. But if Gunny's okay with it you can hang a hammock in the hold."

"Thank you," Fahrn says.

"Don't thank me til you've gotten Gunny on your side," Mal says. "And you'll have to bring your own food."

"Of course," Fahrn says. Then, he ducks out of the cabin, closing the door behind him. Once he's gone, Mal collapses into his desk chair. He buries his face in his hands and mumbles something incoherent.

"What was that?" Alice asks. She's nearly finished putting everything away — she doesn't know _specifically_ where everything goes in Mal's chest, but she figures at least getting it all inside is a vast improvement to how they'd found it.

"Just wondering when the _Nameless_ transformed herself into a passenger cruiser," he says. It's muffled by his hands, but he's at least audible.

"Well, Fahrn'll only be with us a week..."

"Unless he expects to be returned here," Mal says. "But we should be back on the main belt within a month, and then you can find a proper job."

"Oh," Alice says. Suddenly all of her excitement sparked by their conversation on goldenfish elixir has vanished, and the threat of figuring out what she wants to do with the rest of her life looms over her. She tries to push it away, to little avail. _Well, now is as good a time as any,_ she thinks. "About that..."

Mal looks up from his hands, turning to face Alice. He folds his arms in front of him on the desk. "Yes?"

"So... I know this is a bit of a selfish request, and I will totally understand if you say no, but at least wait to say it until I've made my case, alright? I know the _Nameless_ is a small ship, and you and Gunny seem to be handling her just fine, and I'm sure it'd be _valuable_ to learn to sail on a larger one, but the truth is, all I really want to know is how to sail a ship this size so that when I eventually obtain one of my own, I'll know what to do. So, I was wondering. Would you be willing to — I mean, could I sign on with _you_? Instead of with some other random captain I meet in Huana? I understand if you don't want me to, but—"

Mal slowly raises his hand and Alice abruptly stops talking. Surprisingly, the first word out of Mal's mouth isn't no — but it isn't yes, either. "What's your plan for _obtaining_ that ship?"

Alice blushes a little, and then shrugs. She's hesitant to answer, more because this is something she hasn't really shared with anyone else. "I hadn't thought that far, to be honest," she says. "I only ever, well, daydreamed about it."

"And where did you _go_ with this ship that you dreamt of?"

Alice shrugs. "All sorts of places," she says. "Mostly, wherever I was trying to go next. It took a fair bit of time to track down everyone who lead me to Hedgewick. But, sometimes..." _After another lead had turned up nothing,_ she means, but she isn't about to say that aloud. It sounds far too pitiful. "Sometimes, I'd imagine what it would be like to visit every single one of the belt islands."

"There are some ships that do that, you know," Mal says. Alice gives him a strange look. He's hinting at something, she knows, but she can't tell what — and the fact that she can't is bugging her. "Sail from one continent to the other, and then back again. Or maybe deep into the continent, even."

"Sure," Alice says. "It's a fair bit harder to be an independent merchant on the continents, but I get what you're saying. There's a whole lot to see out there — and I definitely want to. But..." She shrugs. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I've finally _found_ my father. I was hoping to have something a little bit... familiar. If I could manage it."

Mal quietly stares at Alice for a few minutes. Surprisingly, she doesn't find it unsettling. He's just — _intent,_ trying to read something in her appearance that she probably wouldn't be able to articulate if she tried. "It's not easy, you know," he says finally.

"What isn't?"

"Sailing. You won't get a good night's sleep again, and there's a _lot_ to learn. The thing about a ship small as the _Nameless_ is that we've all got to do everything."

"If it were easy, everyone and their uncle would do it," Alice says. "And if you're trying to scare me off, you're doing a poor job of it."

"No, just trying to give you a picture of what you're really signing yourself up for here. It's not all happy fluffy dreams of seeing a new place every day."

Alice crosses her arms angrily across her chest. "I'm not a _child,"_ she protests. "I know it's hard. I've _learned_ hard things before. Just cause I can pick a lock well _now_ doesn't mean I always could."

"Sailing has a fair bit more physical labor involved."

"As does most of the _real_ thievery I've done." The comment gets her an unusual look for Mal, and she realizes, suddenly, that he isn't _nearly_ as much a part of Benny's circle as she'd thought. He's just an elf with a fast ship that doesn't care too much what cargo he transports. "Look, I... I'm not sure we want to get into this right now, but it appears that there is _rather_ a fair bit about my past that you would not understand. And I'm not really asking you to. I just want you to believe me when I say that the physical labor isn't the part of learning to sail that I'm worried about, however much it may look like I've done none in my life."

Mal frowns. "How do you know I wouldn't understand?"

She looks him over. There's something just a little bit too — trusting, in his look. Like he'd believe anything she said, no matter what it was. And that's where the problem is. "Go on, then," she says. "Ask me about my past."

"What's there to ask about?" he asks. "You've told me what matters — you ran away, you went looking for your father. It's taken you years to get here — having met your father. And now we're arguing over what you should do next."

Alice raises her eyebrows. She's not entirely sure they're _arguing,_ not yet. "And how, exactly, did you think I bankrolled the four years of searching for my father? I gotta say, this latest trip I booked as 'cargo' was my cheapest yet. It's not always easy to secure a spot on a ship where the men will actually leave you alone, not when everyone thinks you're a _helpless little girl_ all on your own."

He sighs. "How _did_ you pay for it all, then?"

"Running jobs for Benny."

Mal narrows his eyes — the facts simply aren't lining up for him. "You don't have a ship," he says.

"No, but someone needs to _get_ the cargo. And some of the cargo — especially the more _interesting_ cargo — has to be... liberated. From previous owners who are less than willing to part with it."

"You're telling me that you paid for the last four years of traveling far and wide across the islands by _stealing."_

She shrugs. "It's got a fair payoff, if you don't get caught. And it's fun! Plus, I've gotten to see some _wicked_ stuff. For example, did you know that—"

"It's _'fun'_?"

Alice shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah," she says. "If it makes you feel better, I mostly only steal from people who can afford to lose it."

"Mostly?"

"If it were up to me, I would _only_ take from the folk who won't miss it. But when I'm around, Benny sends me on whatever he can, 'cause I'm one of his best. Certainly when there are locked doors between us and whatever we're trying to get. And I'm a fair hand at climbing as long as I've got a wall."

"Right," Mal says.

"Look, I don't care what you think about all that," she says, though it's a terrible lie. "I just want to know if I can hire on with you, or if you want me off when we get to Huana. Or, well, maybe you want me to get off now, after—"

"You can stay," he says quickly.

"For now, or past Huana?"

"Both."

A grin breaks out over Alice's features. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yes," Mal says. "I assume you want to hear the terms?"

"Terms?"

"You'll get two meals a day and half share of profits until you can run your own watch. Then you'll get a whole share. Profits are split five ways — you, me, Gunny, Den, and the _Nameless."_

"The _Nameless_ gets a share to herself?"

"We've gotta pay for fuel and repairs somehow. Unless you'd like to offer to pay for that yourself?"

"No, I'm just — surprised."

Mal nods. "There's a lot to learn, like I said. For now, I'm going to put you on watch with Gunny."

"Why not you?"

"So you don't get distracted by my pretty face," he says with a grin. The truth isn't _quite_ that — it's really _he_ who doesn't want to be distracted by _her_ , but he's not about to say that. Even if she can probably figure it out herself. "Plus, it's a bit hard to share the bunk if we both need it at the same time."

"It's just a different kind of _sharing_ ," Alice says, before she can think it through. Mal raises his eyebrows at her, and she finds herself blushing. "Never mind," she mutters quickly.

"Anyway, you'll be on watch with Gunny til you've got one to yourself."

"When'll that be?"

"Month or so, probably. Depends on how long we stay on this Lonely Palms Island we're headed to. You'll need time to actually spend some time sailing."

"You think we're gonna be stuck on Lonely Palms a month?"

Mal shrugs. "I don't know how long it'll take. It might take some time to get the cargo where it's supposed to be... and I wouldn't mind learning another thing or two about this cargo we're carrying."

"What's there left to know?" Alice asks. "We already know what it is."

"We do?"

"Liquid magic."

Her tone is impressively nonchalant, given what she says. Mal just stares at her blankly for an instant. "Is that _really_ what you want to call it?" he asks.

"Why, do you have a better idea of what to call it?"

"No, not really. It just sounds..."

"Utterly preposterous?"

Mal grins. "A little, yeah."

"Well, at least we can agree on that. I happen to think the side-effects Fahrn was describing were utterly preposterous as well. But then, I never really saw what Rhai's hand looked like..."

"She'll be fine," Mal says, in a way that makes Alice suspect that is distinctly _not_ the truth. "Anyway. Are you really telling me that since you've called it _liquid magic_ you don't care about understanding how it works?"

She shrugs. "I mean, it'd be interesting, sure," she says. "But I just — I don't know. Why would you want to stick around on a backwater island just to learn about some weird stuff that someone told you has some fairly _magical_ properties?"

"Because I'd like to know how it's made. Find out who has some, who wants some. That kind of thing. If it _does_ do what it's supposed to, then we could make a _killing_ with this cargo."

Alice crosses her arms. "So why not sell it, if you're so intent on that?"

"Because who knows if it's _actually_ worth anything? We'll deliver this shipment and then snoop around a little. After all, information is the most valuable currency a man can get his hands on."

Something about the phrase sets warning bells pealing in Alice's mind. It's something that she's heard before, that phrase, she's sure of it. But — where? And why is it making a pit form in her stomach?

"Right," she says. "I, uh. I'd better go see if Gunny needs any help."

And before he can say anything else, she has slipped from the cabin. He knows by her abrupt departure that he's done something wrong, but he can't fathom what. So instead he simply gets on with the task of sorting his paper records back into some semblance of order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'll be posting the penultimate chapter on Monday, and the last next Friday. Be sure not to miss them!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I am so excited for you guys to read this chapter. The only thing I have to say is that there is a cliffhanger in this one, but it's not the very last chapter. And, as usual, I'd love to know what you think of it!

As soon as Alice shuts the cabin door behind her she's confronted by a distant argument. It sounds like it's coming from the boiler room, and more important, it drives whatever strange thoughts are lurking in it from her mind.

"I said, no!"

Alice grins. Someone's arguing with Gunny, and it's not going well for them. She heads towards the sound, and quickly determines a few things — it's Fahrn and Gunny arguing, and Gunny would really rather get on with the shopping part of her day than continuing arguing with Fahrn. So Alice ducks just her head into the boiler room.

"Gunny? We going to get supplies or what?"

Gunny gives her a look that's somewhere between relief and annoyance. The relief is a tad stronger — as much as Gunny wants to win the argument, it's pretty clear that's not happening with someone like Fahrn.

"Yes, let's go," Gunny says.

"Oh, come _on_ ," Fahrn says. "Your captain's already approved it! Why are you being such a—"

Gunny turns on her heel and peers very closely at Fahrn. "A what?"

"A — a—"

"That's what I thought," Gunny says firmly. "You're not willing to insult me to my face, only pitch a fit when I don't agree with my captain on something. Or am I wrong about that?"

"This rather seems like pitching a fit, to me," Alice says. Fahrn gives her a withering look, but she finds she doesn't care. She'd rather support Gunny than the man who's been surprisingly _unhelpful_ with getting their cargo where he wants it to go.

"Fine," Fahrn says, throwing his hands in the air in disgust. "I _won't_ come with you, then. Good luck docking at Lonely Palms."

"We could also _not_ deliver it," Gunny says. "It's up to you."

"And where would you take it, if you didn't take it to Lonely Palms? You happen to _know_ someone who would be interested in goldenfish elixir?"

"I can think of a few, if it really has the properties you'd described. Or even if not — only gotta offload the cargo once. And some people will pay _anything_ for something magical."

"Very well. Go on your own. And like I said, good luck getting in."

"You didn't seem terribly concerned with our prospects when the subject came up in Mal's cabin," Alice observes.

"I didn't really expect you'd be foolish enough to leave me behind again. But if you _really_ insist..."

"I do."

Gunny's tone is firm and brooks no argument. "Fine," Fahrn says. "I'll see what I can do. There might be a ship headed that way. Can't guarantee it'll get there ahead of you, unless you dawdle some — which I can't, in good conscience, recommend."

"And we'd like not to dawdle _here_ any longer," Gunny says swiftly. "Come on, Alice. We've got some food to buy."

And with that, Gunny leads her out of the boiler room and into the hold. They make quick time to the docks, then down off them into the heart of town.

On the ground, Gunny takes quick stock of their surroundings. Then, she heads off with such confidence that Alice has to remind herself that Gunny's never been to Headstone before. She'd never guess that from the way Gunny comfortably weaves between hordes of strangers and down twisting alley streets that seem _sure_ to lead to a dead end.

All of a sudden, they come on a massive marketplace, filled to the brim with people. It's overwhelming for an instant, filled with so many people shouting the merits of their wares and why you should trust _one_ fishmonger and not the other that Alice gets swept up in the exciting hum of being in the center of so much activity. She takes a deep breath — the overwhelming smell is that of fresh fish, and then the pungent odor of people and animals living on top of each other. It's comforting and familiar and she spots at least a dozen easy marks in this foolish town that doesn't expect pickpockets.

"Let's make this quick," Gunny says tersely. Alice turns to her, about to tease her about not liking the city, when she notices that Gunny's expression looks actively strained, not just uncomfortable. It makes Alice much more willing to just get down to business.

"Right," she says. "I don't really know what I'm doing, but I can certainly carry things. Lead the way?"

Gunny nods, and they make an efficient circuit of the market. By the time they've completed it, Alice is carrying three decent-sized crates and a sack of potatoes. At least she's only _beginning_ to regret offering to carry everything. Gunny, for what it's worth, is managing a barrel of salt fish on her own.

Between the two of them, they manage to get everything back to the _Nameless_ without incident. Only after they've stowed all the food in the galley and returned the remainder of Mal's purse to his lock box does Alice finally bring up the subject of watches.

"So," she says, closing the lock box with a click. She'd managed to find and unlock it fairly quickly, but she figures putting it back where Mal expects it is at least _some_ help. Hopefully. "Earlier, after we'd talked to Fahrn, Mal and I got to talking. And he, uh, offered me a job. On the _Nameless."_

"Did he offer, or did you ask?" Gunny asks shrewdly.

Alice blushes a little. "I asked," she admits. "But he _did_ agree to it. And he told me I'm on your watch."

To her surprise, Gunny nods. "Yeah, I figured."

"Oh," Alice says. Then she hesitates, unsure whether she can say something more without things getting uncomfortable. "Gunny?"

"Yes?"

"Actually, you know what, never mind."

"Are you sure?"

Alice sighs. "It's just... I don't know. I'm sorry. I don't really know how to put it into words."

"Try."

"I'm not sure I even know where to begin... why'd you tell Fahrn off earlier? Was it that bad to have a roommate?"

"It's not about that," Gunny says. "Something about him strikes me as — shifty."

"And I don't?"

"I've had time to check _you_ out already," Gunny says. "What'd you think, Mal'd hire you without making sure I was okay with it? That would be absurd even if I _were_ just his first mate."

Alice narrows her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Mal has absolutely no sense of people's character," Gunny says. "You'd think he'd've learned, with the number of times it's burned him, but he can't bring himself to care. He's not always so conscientious towards the people who have slighted him in the past, but 'til you do... He relies on me to actually do the kicking out. 'Cause it wouldn't be him who realized the latest character is a bad influence."

"You say this like you've seen a number of... _interesting_ influences come into Mal's life," Alice says. What she's really trying to ask here is _so you've known Mal how long, again?_ But it never comes out quite that clearly. "Have there been many?"

"There've been a few," Gunny agrees. "Here and there. Mal's a fair hand with the ladies. But he's _also_ a fair hand at pissing them off."

"And that's not something you thought I should know?"

Gunny shrugs. "I sort of figured you knew what you were getting yourself into when you signed yourself up for this. If not, I'm sorry, that was my mistake. Now, about the watches."

Alice perks up. "Yes?"

"Go take a nap. And I mean it, you'll want to be well-rested. I'll come wake you in a few hours when it's time for the watch to start."

"Right," Alice says. Then she heads for the cabin. Lying down for a bit doesn't sound terrible, even if it's not something she'd normally be inclined to do in the middle of the afternoon, but it can't hurt to try, can it?

#

Despite staring at the cabin ceiling for the better part of two hours, Alice doesn't manage to fall asleep. However, it's not entirely regrettable, as at least she's up in a flash when Gunny knocks on the door. From there, it's just a matter pulling her gear on, and then she's joining Gunny on deck.

While Alice was resting, they'd left the port of Headstone. Part of her had wanted to see the island disappear into the distance, but the other part of her said that if she cared that much, she could always go back on her own time. And in order to _get_ some of her own time, she'd need to learn how to sail.

So, rest. Rest that never came, but she doesn't quite feel she would have needed it considering the blast of cold air that hits her as she emerges on deck.

Gunny and Mal have already performed the little dance that exchanges control of the ship and reports nothing of interest since the last watch change. Mal nods at her on his way to the lower deck, and she crosses to where Gunny is standing at the wheel. Once she gets in close enough, Gunny begins to speak.

"The _first_ thing to know about running a watch of your own is to always be aware of everything that's going on around you," she begins.

"Right," Alice says, vowing to remember it. "Keep an eye out. What else?"

#

And so the days pass. Alice doesn't get much sleep; Mal was right. It's more a matter of not being used to being woken every four hours than anything else, which — hopefully — means she'll be able to adjust. For now, though, Mal has to shake her awake and practically drag her from the bed in order to make her get up.

They take Fahrn's advice and fly past the islands between Headstone and Lonely Palms. What this _really_ means is that once they're sailing into the port, Alice is more than happy to completely give up on everything related to sailing. For a short period of time, perhaps, but for a period of time nonetheless.

For all Fahrn's dire warnings, they land without incident. No message has arrived forewarning their presence, but no one terribly seems to mind. The first person they ask gives them decent directions to the Institute, and "the Maestro", what everyone seems to call the Mortimer fellow Fahrn had directed them to ask for.

Leaving the _Nameless_ under Gunny's watch in a secluded corner of the docks, Mal and Alice make their way past the edge of town and up to the Institute itself. They've barely caught sight of the impressive wrought-iron gates of the school before Alice has regretted not insisting on a carriage. For one thing, this island is hotter and muggier than the main belt ones she's used to, and she's had to shed her jacket in the hopes of not getting heat stroke. For another, she's not entirely sure how they're going to get in, without a carriage. It's not like two people loitering around a massive gate is going to magically convince it to open, no matter how hard they hope for it. A carriage wouldn't necessarily be much better on that part, true, but at least it would be more _noticeable_ from a distance.

When their sweaty, dirty selves finally arrive in front of the gates, Alice realizes that all of her concerns were for naught. There's a gatehouse here, and it's got a guard in it who sniffs disapprovingly at their motley appearance but lets them through without question. From there, it's just a matter of wandering up to the imposing building situated well back from the road.

Mal uses the heavy knocker set into the door to send three loud knocks through the building. Once he's pulled his hand away, Alice has a chance to admire the knocker. It's brass, a simple loop hanging from an ornate plaque depicting two doves carrying—

"Are those paint brushes?" Alice asks. But her question is quickly forgotten as a window on the second floor of the building gets flung open suddenly.

"Benjamin!" someone calls out excitedly. The visitors look towards the call — neither of them are Benjamin, true, but that doesn't mean they're not interested in finding out who someone _thought_ they were. A pretty young blonde lady is hanging half out of the window, but she's clearly disappointed to see these two instead of whoever she was expecting.

However, before anyone can clear the situation up, another window gets thrown open, on the same floor but further to the visitors' right. _"Mal?"_ demands a voice. This _definitely_ gets his attention.

 _"Rebecca?"_ Mal says incredulously. The brunette nods vehemently and waves a little. "What are you—?"

But before Mal can finish his thought, the huge door in front of them finally opens. A well-dressed older butler stands in the small patch of space between them and the interior of the building. Alice more strongly gets the impression that the building before them was built with the kind of wealth that created the Pierson estates.

"Can I help you?" the butler asked.

"Yes," Alice says quickly. "We have to speak to Mort — to the Maestro."

"And is the Maestro expecting you?"

"Oh, let them in, Jeremiah," calls a voice from the stairs. "Mal's an old friend."

Mal grins and waves at the sprightly little brunette on the stairs. Alice must have a good six inches on her; she's not quite five feet tall with a soft, round face. She's pleasant enough to look at, pretty, but not _beautiful—_

 _Oh, really, Alice?_ Alice thinks, angry at herself. _You haven't even_ met _the girl, and you're worried about which one of you is prettier?_

Jeremiah, the butler, steps aside to let the three visitors inside. He grumbles something under his breath as he does, but Alice doesn't catch it. She's too caught up in the fact that once they're inside, the girl — _woman_ — on the steps comes running to Mal. He engulfs her in a hug that lifts her off her feet, and she squeals in delight.

"Rebecca, this is my — one of my crew, Alice."

Rebecca looks between Alice and Mal just once before grinning widely. "So you're still going after the brunettes who are far too young for you, hmm?" she teases.

"Hey! At least _this_ one flirts back," he protests, grinning widely. "Alice, this is Rebecca. She was — good lord, you were _twelve_ when we met, weren't you?"

"There abouts," Rebecca says, grinning.

"My how you've grown. I'd say _up_ , but..."

Rebecca shoves him. "Mal was one of my daddy's crew. Daddy was always a bit over-protective of me and Noah. Can't say I blame him, when Mama died having us. But it was certainly _unusual_ for us to grow up on a ship. Worked out for Noah, at least."

"He's got his own ship then?"

"Oh, yes," Rebecca says quickly. "Daddy's got a whole fleet, now, and Noah's captaining one of the ships. Last I heard, Daddy was considering giving him the flagship, but then they'd have to live under the same roof again, so I don't really know how that'll turn out. But what about _you,_ Mal? Surely _you've_ been having more fun adventures than I have! Have you gotten the leg yet?"

"About a year after I left the _Dauntless_ , yes," Mal says. "I'd show you, but I'd be worried about making girls swoon..."

Rebecca rolls her eyes. "Then let's go into the sitting room. We can't shut the door, but we can at least make it difficult for people to simply _happen_ upon your terribly malformed flesh."

Mal's mouth quirks towards a grin. "As much as I appreciate the pun, we're actually looking for someone named Mortimer."

Immediately, Rebecca's demeanor changes. She stands up straighter, and looks a little hesitant when she asks, "What do you want with the Maestro?"

"Just to talk. It won't take long, really. And I promise we can catch up afterward."

Rebecca frowns.

"We have something we want to give him. Something we're _supposed_ to give him, actually. Sent by a friend."

Rebecca sighs through pursed lips. "Fine," she says. "I'll show you to him. But you're not running off on me again Mal, you hear?"

Mal nods. "I promise we'll come chat after. Just gotta get some work done first."

So Rebecca leads them up a flight of stairs and down to the end of a corridor. She knocks on a door indistinguishable from the others except for a small wooden plaque hanging on it. In the plaque is carved an image of a violin, but no words.

"Maestro?" Rebecca calls through the door. "It's Rebecca. I've brought you some visitors..."

There's no answer, so Rebecca simply shrugs and tries the handle. It's unlocked, so she lets them all in.

The study inside is an absolute mess. It's littered with bits and pieces of things — the springs and gears of clockwork creations, but also a number of string instruments in various states of destruction and re-construction. The most assembled pieces look vaguely like they may have been violins in their past lives.

"Shame Gunny isn't here," Mal says. "She'd be going all googly-eyes over those violins, I'm sure."

"Who's Gunny?"

"My first mate," Mal says. Before Rebecca can ask any followup questions, however, a new voice greets them from the doorway.

"Giving tours of the Institute that include professors' offices now, Rebecca?" asks a voice from the doorway. The three people in the office turn to find an older man with hair and goatee long graying standing in the doorway.

"Actually, Maestro," Rebecca says, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "They're looking for you. This is Mal and Alice."

"Pleasure," the Maestro grunts generically. "But please, call me Mortimer. _Maestro_ is just what the students insist on calling me." He steps into the office, shutting the door behind him. Then he takes a closer look at his two visitors. His gaze lingers on Alice. "You're Helene and Fahrn's daughter, aren't you?"

Alice blinks a few times. "Yes, actually," she says, though she's not entirely sure the resemblance is that obvious. In another world — one where she hadn't recently met Fahrn — she would have a million questions for someone who knew her parents without being prompted. But now it's become the least of her concerns. "As a matter of fact, it was Fahrn who sent us."

"Of course he did. I got his letter not an hour ago, and he did mention an unnecessarily hasty crew... Regardless, it appears you lovely folk have a cargo of goldenfish elixir that you're hoping to unload."

Rebecca gasps. "But — we haven't _lost_ any? Right?"

"Unless you've lost about a dozen crates, this isn't yours," Mal says firmly. "Fahrn seemed to imply it belonged to the Company. Or at least a Pierson."

"It's _possible_ ," Mortimer says. "I mean. Assuming _anyone_ could get their hands on the resources to make it, it'd be the Company. And they'd certainly _want_ it. You said a _dozen_ crates?"

"There abouts," Mal says. "Might be more. I didn't actually count."

"And where did you get it from?"

"A — _fairly_ reliable contact. I wouldn't trust him with my life, but..."

"Good," Mortimer says. "He's likely dead."

Alice inhales sharply. "Why do you say that?"

"If he provided the elixir to you, and the Company found out about it, absolutely the first thing they would do is try to find out where it had gone. Likely by torturing and killing anyone who'd come in contact with it."

"You think they'd go that far for this stuff?" Mal asks. "Its effects sound pretty impressive, sure, but surely the Company isn't _that_ bad..."

"It can be," Alice growls. Mal rolls his eyes, but surprisingly, Mortimer chuckles.

"You're more like your parents than I thought," he says. "You know, I _thought_ you had that look about you."

"What look?"

"Like you're here to stir up trouble. Never known two students who were better at it than those two. Didn't hurt things that there was plenty of trouble to be _caused_ in those days."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Well, rebellion, for starters."

This gets _everyone_ staring at Mortimer. "Oh," he says, as if he _should_ be sorry about revealing this tidbit of information, but in fact isn't. "Didn't you know? Both your parents were crucial in the formation of the earliest rebellion. And they're most of the reason why the Tuanakis stayed independent. But by the looks on your faces, it seems you didn't know that. Shame. I could really use your help with the next one."

"The next what?"

"Why, the next rebellion, of course."

The silence in Mortimer's office is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Then, hesitantly, Rebecca breaks the silence. "Maestro..."

"Oh, don't start, Rebecca. I know what you're going to say."

She heaves a sigh heavy with irritation. "Then I don't have to say it, do I?"

"Rebellion's only gonna get us hanged if we get caught," he says dismissively.

"I still don't know why you have to go around trying to sell _everyone_ you meet on rebellion," she snaps.

"Not everyone. Only the ones who show promise."

"And what about the ones who could sell us out?"

 _"They_ get recruited first. Hard to know what they're saying about us unless we feed it to 'em."

Alice states blankly at Mortimer, trying to understand what he's implying. However, Mal is quicker on his feet. "Say I have no interest in rebellion. What then? What do you have to keep us from running to the Company right now?"

"Well, now — Mal, was it?"

He nods.

"Well, Mal, I hate to break it to you this way, but your ship's been, shall we say, _liberated_ of its cargo. Which means you are left with what, exactly, as proof? Some things said by some old man who's made his living teaching rich brats how to play violin on an island that doesn't exist? Good luck getting the Company to believe you on that one. Plus, who are you to the Company, anyway? Some uppity elf who owns his own ship? Nice trick with the name, by the way. Or should I say, the _Nameless?"_

Mal fumes. He opens his mouth to say something — but then he glances at Alice, and closes his mouth. He stares Mortimer down for a moment, but Mortimer's expression doesn't waver.

"Mal," Rebecca warns. "Be reasonable."

"Fine," Mal grumbles. "If you're _that_ sure our information wouldn't be believed, even if we _did_ tell the Company, why not tell us something actually _interesting?_ You've been _apparently_ selling this rebellion, but on the basis of what, exactly? The supreme joy of no longer being under Company rule? 'Cause let me tell you, Company rule is fair better than _no_ rule, and at least _most_ of the Piers are—"

"I won't tell you another thing about the rebellion until — _unless_ — you swear to join us."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you're disenchanted with your current way of life. Because you're an elf — you _know_ there's something better than living under the thumb of the Company. An enclave elf, from the looks of it — you don't have quite the self-consciousness a freed elf would. And, hell, I'd much rather convert you than kill you."

Rebecca gasps. "Maestro!" she exclaims. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

He turns away from Mal and Alice with a shrug. "Not right away, I suppose. But without a good reason to keep them alive..."

He trails off into silence — or perhaps he doesn't, but either way, Alice doesn't hear anything else he says. There's still one piece that's not fitting into place. Somehow this situation escalated in a way that she never expected. "But — why? Why _Mal?"_

"Because I know an informant when I see one."

Alice doesn't quite process the sentence. "What?" she asks, and Mortimer helpfully repeats it. "But — an informant for _who?"_

"Piers, of course. Piers — say, didn't your mother marry a Piers? Which one was it, again? Piers Charles?"

"Piers Daniel," Alice whispers, staring at Mal, who won't quite meet her eye.

"Ah, yes. Well, that's going to be an interesting letter to write. 'Dear Helene, It is with great regret that I must inform you that your daughter has been spying against your cause—'"

"I'm not a spy!" Alice protests vehemently. "I'm just a fucking _thief!_ "

Rebecca gasps again. For some reason, it particularly grates on Alice's nerves.

"Well, excuse _me,"_ she mutters angrily. "At least I had the good sense to avoid being a whore."

Rebecca's hands fly to her mouth, and her eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. Alice gives her an exaggerated bow, a gesture somewhere between _by your leave_ and _thank you for finally shutting up,_ and then turns to Mal.

"Well, go on then. Defend yourself."

"I can't."

Alice's heart skips a beat. "You what?"

"I can't. Deny it, that is. Not—" he glances sidelong at Mortimer, who is watching the scene with an expression of vague amusement "—in good conscience, anyway."

Alice stares at him. "I don't understand," she says, but the words feel distant, like she's hearing them, not saying them. Like she's Rebecca, watching the scene with something akin to terror.

"Dammit, Alice," Mal says. "I'm a fucking informant. For the Company. What more do you want me to say?"

Alice feels like she's floating. Like she, herself, is not in her body any more — like it's just a dumb shell, standing there, having such blatant falsehoods thrown at it that she can't inhabit it anymore.

She says something — nonsense, probably, by the way the others look at her. She's _trying_ to regain control of her body but, surprisingly, it's not that easy. Nothing feels _real,_ in this instant.

And then, suddenly, everything feels a bit _too_ real, as she's pulling her bloody fist away from Mal's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Let me know in a comment! See you guys on Friday for the last chapter, and no, there aren't any more cliffhangers coming :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who's been along on this journey with me - I hope you've been enjoying yourselves! This chapter should provide a bit better closure than the terrible cliffhanger I left you on, even if it's not exactly the closure we all want. But don't worry; even though this feels like an ending, this book is only the beginning.

After the third kick, Alice says, rather tiredly, "Mal." However, his name isn't enough to stop him from repeatedly kicking the door. "Mal, come on. It's _locked_ , what do you—"

He never answers. But then, he doesn't need to. For all the many locks securing the door, there is something their captors haven't kept in mind: The ability of a determined elf with a clockwork leg to kick out the hinges.

"Uh, what...?"

Mal doesn't answer. He's busy fiddling with the door, rocking it back and forth in its frame.

"What are you _doing_?"

"Getting us out of here," Mal grumbles as he works. "Or were you particularly looking forward to being hung in the morning?"

"We wouldn't be _hung,"_ Alice says irritably.

"I suppose you're right," Mal continues distractedly. "We're more likely to be shot."

Alice rolls her eyes as Mal throws his weight on the door. With a splintering crack, it separates from both hinges. He pushes it open and then gestures for Alice to lead him through it. "Ladies first," he says. "I mean, unless you'd rather stay around and explain this. I'm sure the splintered door will prove that you're totally innocent of all charges."

"Like hell you're leaving me here," she says quickly, scrambling to her feet. On the other side of the doorway is an empty, nondescript hallway. Mal is close on her tail, but he spares a glance back towards the splintered door.

"I suppose they must have heard that," he says, almost forlorn. "Well, nothing to be done about that. Where do you think our things are?"

Alice shrugs. "Try the other doors?" she suggests, and so they do. One of the unlocked doorways leads to a room with a table on which all of their confiscated belongings dumped. It's suspiciously easy, but Alice is already glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. When Mal drops a heavy chest on the table, she practically jumps out of her skin.

"You doing alright?" Mal asks.

"No," she snaps, though as soon as she's said it, she regrets it. "But what do you care, _informant_?"

Mal frowns at her. "Alice..."

She holds up a hand to stop him before he can get any further. "While I'd _love_ to shout at you about this, now is not the time. Let's get out of here first, hmm?"

"Fine," he says. "But first, this chest. Can you open it?"

With a sigh, Alice pulls out a few picks to test it. After a minute of frowning and fiddling, she says, "Yes, but not quickly. Is it important?"

"Not if you can't do it quick. Come on, let's go."

Mal heads out of the room. Alice scoops up her tools and follows, so she's a few steps behind when she steps out into the hallway. Needless to say, she's surprised when she sees Mal heading back towards the locked door at the end of the hall.

"Where are you going?" she asks.

"Out of here," Mal says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Sure," Alice says. "But why are you going _that_ way?"

"Oh, because _you_ have a better plan?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Come on, places like this always have a back way out."

"'Places like this'?"

"Yeah, you know, hidey-holes. I've..." She pauses, trying to choose her words carefully. It's a new experience around Mal, but if he really _is_ an informant... "I've gotten into quite a few of them, and they _always_ have a second entrance — or exit, really. So the people whose hidey-hole it is can get out with their valuables."

"And _how_ do you know this?"

She shrugs. "I've done a lot of jobs for Benny," she says, hoping it's vague enough he'll accept it. "If I can't get us out of here in twenty minutes, we can go out the front all guns-blazing," Alice says. "It's not my favorite method, of course, but..."

Mal sighs. "Fine," he says. "You've got ten minutes to find us a way out of here."

She opens her mouth to protest, but his glare cuts her off. Instead, she strides off towards the exit she's confident she'll find.

#

The two of them are crushed in a tiny alcove after a door unexpectedly locks behind them. Unsurprisingly, they're bickering about it within seconds, and not just because there's barely enough space for them to stand.

"Move your elbow!"

"I can't! There's nowhere else to put it!"

"Well, find somewhere! I can't get us out of here with your elbow in my gut!"

"I'm not exactly sure why you need your _gut_ to pick a lock..."

"Oh, excuse me, did _you_ want to get us out of here? Oh, and let me guess. _You_ need your elbow to kick down the door."

"Do you _want_ me to kick down the door?"

"It's made of stone," Alice says dryly. "I mean, if you want to break your leg, by all means..."

Grumbling under his breath, Mal shifts out of the way. Eventually he finds a position where his elbow isn't occupying the same space as Alice's stomach. She doesn't waste time thanking him before fiddling with the lock.

Finally, Alice engages the last tumbler. With a satisfying _clunk_ the mechanisms engage as expected and the door swings open. She stumbles through the opening into the awaiting chamber, which appears to be carved into the very hillside their prison abuts. Mal stretches out a cramped arm with a groan.

"Come on," Alice says. "Let's hope this leads us somewhere we actually want to be."

Not having many other choices, they let the underground tunnel deposit them back outdoors on a near-empty gravel path. They follow _that_ until it becomes a quiet back alley. As soon as they can, they break away to weave through city streets until they reach the _Nameless._

The dock is fairly deserted as they approach. Remembering that Mortimer had been able to name his ship, Mal waits until he's nearly on board to call out. "Gunny," he hisses loudly, but there's no response. "Gunny!"

After a moment of silence, he glances at Alice, and then pointedly at the pistol strapped to her thigh.

"Can I trust you not to shoot me with that?" he asks.

"So long as we have mutual enemies," she mutters. He rolls his eyes but heads towards the edge of the ship, easily pulling himself over the railing. He lands on the deck with soft feet, Alice a few steps behind him.

There's no one about, not even on the decks of nearby ships. It sets Alice on edge, and makes Mal outright concerned. So the first thing he does is carefully approach the edge of the hatch and hiss for Gunny. Again, he gets no response.

"If you hear shooting, wait til it's over," he tells Alice, drawing his own pistols.

"And if it's quiet?"

He gives her a look she finds unreadable. "Follow as you'd like," he grunts, and then jumps through the hole in the deck. Alice listens for gunshots, but before she's made up her mind about whether it's safe to climb down, Mal shouts out. "Alice!"

She jumps down. Mal has already approached the cabin door, but it's not hard to see why. There's a trail of dripping blood that leads towards it.

Mal hammers on the door. "Gunny? Gunny, it's Mal. Let me in."

"I come," says a familiar, gruff voice. A moment later, the cabin door opens to reveal a shaken Den. He looks incredibly relieved to see Mal. "Mal! Good. Gunny needs help."

He pulls the door open all the way so Mal and Alice can step through. When they do, they see Gunny with her arm hastily bandaged, sleeping in Mal's bunk. Mal curses angrily.

Then, abruptly, he becomes all business. "Alice, in my chest there's some bandages," he says, already crossing the small room to Gunny's side. "Den, could you boil me some water?"

"Mal," Alice says quietly, "we need to get out of here. _Fast._ "

"And I suppose you know how to wrap a proper bandage?"

"Better than I know how to sail us out of here."

Mal sighs deeply. He knows she's got a point — it's far easier to wrap a bandage than to sail, and it looks like Gunny's already done a halfway decent job of it herself. "Fine. I'll need your help to get off the docks, though. Then I want you to go with Den and get some fresh bandages boiled. And if she wakes up, come let me know."

With that, Mal snaps his goggles into place and heads for the deck. Alice follows suit and, together, they release the _Nameless_ from the Lonely Palms docks.

#

When Gunny comes to take the watch from Mal, she's alone. At least her bandage is in better condition. Mal pointedly raises his eyebrows at her, nodding at her arm, but they're going too fast to bother with a conversation. She shakes her head, giving him a little smile. She's fine; they'll talk about it later.

Then, she nods towards the wheel. With the usual amount of fanfare they trade the watch. Only once Gunny has both hands on the wheel does she actually speak to Mal. "Go talk to her," she says.

Mal gives her a quizzical look, but she's wearing a carefully neutral expression. With a sigh, he heads below. First, he checks the cabin, but he's not surprised when Alice isn't there. Nor is she in the boiler room, though he does find Den stirring vegetables into a large pot of water. He errantly wonders if the stew will taste like the bandages that the pot first boiled.

"She _was_ here," Den says, straightforward as ever in response to Mal's question. "She went below."

 _Into the hold?_ Mal wonders, but he thanks Den for his help. He grabs a lantern before heading off to find her.

Even though the hold is empty, it's a good thing he brings the light. Alice is standing in a corner of the hold, nearly out of the ring of illumination his lantern offers. Without it, he never would have noticed her.

"Alice?" he asks hesitantly.

"Fuck off, Mal," she snaps.

He's surprisingly taken aback. "What'd I do now?" he asks.

"You're _still_ a fucking informant," Alice grumbles.

"Oh, you're still hung up on that?"

"Of course I'm still hung up on it!" she exclaims. "What did you _think_ was going to happen, I was just going to _stop_ worrying about the fact that you're an informant?"

"What's there even to worry about?"

Alice finally turns fully towards him, just so he can receive the full force of her glare. "You're worse than Piers," she spits.

"Ex _cuse_ me?"

"You heard me. You're worse than Piers. At least _he_ was open with his loyalties."

"Oh, really, _was_ he now?"

"More so than you! He never _acted_ like something he wasn't. Sure, he bought people's loyalty, but at least he was _open_ about it."

"And you don't think, _perhaps_ , that a reaction like this is exactly why I _didn't_ tell you about it before now?"

"You really thought you could get away with not telling me something so important?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes, I _did,_ because — if you recall, when we met, you had hired me for _one_ job. To take your cargo — or should I say, _you —_ to Tuanaki. And I certainly did that. Did far more than that, even. So, now, tell me. When _exactly_ should I have told you? Before or after I'd tried so hard to keep you out of the Company's sight?"

"Oh, right, because you've done _so_ much to avoid the Company. Except — well, doesn't it seem like a bit of an oxymoron, trying to avoid the Company when you also work for them?"

"Please," Mal says dismissively. "They'd never hire an elf."

Alice gives him a pointed look. "Except maybe to do something like inform for them," she says, as if he's too stupid to realize it on his own.

"Those are two rather separate things."

"No, they aren't! They both help Piers!"

Mal sighs deeply. "Alice, I know you're only a child, but—"

"I'm not a child!" she exclaims angrily, stamping her foot in anger. "I'm _twenty_ years old! I'm a perfectly responsible adult!"

"One who apparently doesn't understand the difference between _making ends meet_ and _betraying your morals._ "

"They're the same thing if they take you to Piers!"

"No, they _aren't!"_ Mal exclaims, frustrated. "Being an informant isn't the same as sharing everything you know."

Alice gives him a look of clear disbelief. "Right. Because you just get to _choose_ what you tell Piers."

"As a matter of fact, I _do._ And not that _you'd_ care, but I haven't gone anywhere _near_ my contact since I picked you up."

"I should fucking hope not! Otherwise why the hell did I pay you to keep me _away_ from them?"

"Who better to keep you away from the Company than the one who knows them best?"

"Right, because that's _exactly_ how you want to convince me that you're not working for them."

Mal shakes his head. "This is pointless," he mutters.

"You're telling me! _I_ was perfectly content to wile away the hours all by myself, but _no_ , you just _had_ to show up and _demand_ that I forgive you for being an informant!"

"I don't want your _forgiveness,_ " he snaps, as though the mere idea is beneath him.

"Then what _do_ you want?"

Mal gives her a hard stare. She returns it with a glare of her own, firm and unyielding. Finally, he says, "You're my crew. Forgive me for caring."

With that, he turns on his heel and walks back to the ladder. He hasn't noticed himself approaching Alice, but it sure feels like his way out has retreated to the far side of the hold. Still, he's got his feet on the second rung by the time Alice calls out his name. It hardly stops him.

Her question does the trick. "Does Benny know?"

He has no words for her. Instead, he spares her only a look. A pointed one, sure, and rife with implied meaning, but a look nonetheless.

_What do you think I do for him?_

#

A few hours later, there's a timid knock on the door to the cabin. "Mal?" calls an uncertain voice.

"Enter," he says brusquely, and the door opens slowly. Alice steps through and takes her time closing the door. "What is it? We don't have long before the watches change."

"Then I'll make it quick. As soon as we're back on a belt island, I quit."

Mal frowns at her. "Well, that didn't take long. I thought it'd take longer for you to go from 'please please give me a job' to 'never mind, this is too hard'."

"It's not too hard," she says quickly.

"What is it, then?"

A million thoughts run through her head: _I can't bear to work for someone who's worked for the Company. I can't trust anyone who sells information to Piers. I've already escaped his control once; I don't want to have to do it again._ None of them are good enough, not with Mal looking at her like she's deathly wounded him. _I don't want to walk away,_ she thinks, and that hurts as much as anything he's done.

"I just can't," she says. "I'm sorry. I'll pull my weight until we get back to somewhere civilized, but then we go our separate ways."

Mal sticks out a hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you," he says. "You keep your watches, and I'll get you back to Aparo."

Alice shakes his hand. "Deal," she says.

"Now, speaking of watches," Mal says, getting to his feet. "I've got somewhere to be." After putting on his goggles, he strides past her. Alice watches him go, a little forlorn. She's sure of her decision, but that doesn't make it any easier to leave Mal or the _Nameless_ behind. Still, she's got a few last days to enjoy herself, and she wouldn't miss that for the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, finally at the end of this epic adventure. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! And don't worry, this is hardly the last misadventure involving Alice and the crew of the _Nameless_! I have many more exciting things planned, as this is a pulp series in the truest sense, but it will likely take me some time to get them out. The best way to speed up that timeline is to leave a comment and let me know how much you liked the story, and how much you're looking forward to the next one!


End file.
